


Change of Mind

by edawnings



Category: Pentagon (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bad Boy Hyojong, Class President Hwitaek, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Opposites Attract, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-03-17 21:04:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 88,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13667256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edawnings/pseuds/edawnings
Summary: There was something about Hwitaek. Now, thatdid not, under any circumstances, mean that he liked Hwitaek. He did not. But, there was something slightly… intriguing about Hwitaek. For starters, he was pretty hot. That much was clear, enough. He was also too exemplary. Too kind, too perfect, toomuch. There was nothing to him, except for his class presidency, and his model student attitude. He was one dimensional. Hwitaek was just too perfect. There was something about him, though, that was asking,beggingto be molded. Asking to be given a bit of dimension, a bit of an edge. Maybe, even, Hwitaek wanted to be corrupted.Andhellif Hyojong wasn’t going to try to give him what he wanted.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> No one asked for me to write another series, yet here I am. Anyway, I'm really looking forward to writing this story! I really love Huidawn a lot, and I think this is going to be a lot of fun.
> 
> Enjoy!

Hyojong was the type of person to do the opposite of whatever someone told him to do.

He liked to skip classes, and smoke on campus, and bleach his hair in the sink. He liked loud music, and torn jeans, and as cliché as it sounded, leather jackets. He didn’t like people who thought they had some sort of higher power over him, or people who always acted like they’d neve done anything wrong in their entire life. Even more, he hated the people who had _actually_ never done anything wrong in their entire life.

Hyojong just didn’t like rules. It was as simple as that. He wasn’t trying to be cool, or edgy, because really, the people who did that were just as annoying as the goody-two-shoes, and there was no point, anyway.

Hyojong wasn’t edgy, or whatever. A lot of people thought he was, due to his naturally rebellious nature, but he wasn’t. He didn’t want to be burdened with that whole complex, and he wasn’t ‘hardcore’ enough for it, anyway. He liked petting dogs, and laughing, and god help him if he saw a cat, because he was going to stop everything he was doing to go try to pet it. He didn’t know why everyone thought he was some rascal who threw rocks at everything, but he really wasn’t. He was even going to college, for fuck’s sake. He simply liked what he liked, and disliked what he disliked.

Once he made his mind up about something, though, there wasn’t usually any changing it. If he thought his hair looked good when his roots grew out, then that’s the way it was, regardless of how much Shinwon would tease him about it. If he thought someone was preppy, and too nice to actually be a decent person, then he didn’t like them. Nothing had ever been convincing enough for him to change his mind, even about the little things.

At the moment, Hyojong was sitting on one of the short brick walls on the college campus, a joint between his lips. He didn’t like to smoke cigarettes, much, unless he was really irritated, or stressed out. Weed did the job, just as well, if not better. He was kind of a jittery person, naturally, and he liked to be in a calm, unbothered state. He was technically allowed to smoke on campus, especially not weed, but no one had ever stopped him, so he figured it wasn’t that bad.

Hyojong had a total of four friends: Wooseok, Yuto, Kino, and Shinwon.

Hyojong was probably closest to Wooseok, out of all of them. Wooseok was too damned tall for his own good, but he acted like a flower, more often than not. People were always confused on how someone could act like a flower, since it was just a plant, but if they spent any amount of time with Wooseok, they’d understand immediately. Wooseok only drank at parties, and _occasionally_ smoked a bowl with Hyojong, but otherwise was fairly straight edge. Hyojong just liked him because he was quiet, yet he had the ability to be dumb and funny with Hyojong, whenever they got in one of their moods.

Yuto was Wooseok’s best friend, and dressed like a taller, more intimidating version of Hyojong. He was always in all black, and leather jackets, and if he really put effort into his look, there was the lightest smudge of eyeliner around his eyes. If there wasn’t a cigarette in between his lips, or his fingers, there were several tucked behind his ear, or hidden in the pockets of his jacket. He looked really intimidating and dark, to be totally honest, but he giggled a lot and loved anything that was soft. Hyojong didn’t understand how someone could act so entirely different from how they looked, but Yuto never ceased to amaze.

Kino, real name Hyunggu, was Yuto’s ever-so-precious boyfriend. And really, besides the fact that he was probably as perfect as a person could get without being annoying as fuck, there wasn’t much to say. He was always nice, and always had a lighter on him, even though he didn’t smoke. He was confident, yet insecure, and helped everyone who needed help, regardless of the type of person they were, or who their friends were. Hyojong had actually met him through Yuto, and he’d fit into their little group just fine, so Hyojong figured it was meant to be that way.

Shinwon was a hell of a lot different than the rest of them. Even Kino, who liked to bake, and always wore purple or pink, was more similar to Hyojong, Wooseok, and Yuto. Shinwon was this enigma of a man, who Hyojong was fairly certain had just paid his way to get into college. Hyojong didn’t know whether he was smart or not, but he did know that Shinwon had a lot of money, and loved to put that on full display. He wore expensive clothes and went to get facials every other week, which was something that Hyojong would probably never get caught dead doing. He was so straight edge it almost literally hurt Hyojong. Shinwon was just always there, even when Hyojong hadn’t wanted him to be, and eventually, he’d fit right into their dynamic, as if he knew he was always going to, in the first place.

He was sure they all had friends outside of this odd group of misfits, but he didn’t. He didn’t really need anyone more than those four, they had all the quirky personality traits he needed to be around.

“Hold still,” Kino said, holding the lighter at the end of Yuto’s cigarette. Yuto was sitting right next to Hyojong, legs spread so Kino could stand between them.

Yuto’s cigarette moved between his lips, as he spoke. “I am holding still,” he said. One of his hands was at the small of Kino’s back, holding him closer.

Kino smacked Yuto on the arm, laughing. “You’re talking, you can’t be holding still.” Yuto shook his head, waving the cigarette in the shorter man’s face. “Do you want to smoke, or not?” Kino asked. Yuto sighed, but stopped moving. Kino flicked the lighter a few times, holding the flame to the end of Yuto’s cigarette. Yuto inhaled, blowing smoke away from his boyfriend’s face.

“Are you all coming over tomorrow?” Yuto asked, looking around the group. Grey smoke sifted around his face as he spoke. On weekends, and most weekdays, the group hung out. It ws either Wooseok and Yuto’s dorm, or the shitty apartment Hyojong was staying at, just so he didn’t have to stay in a dorm room with a bunch of strangers.

“Depends on if there’ll be drinks, or not,” Hyojong joked. As if he didn’t already know that there were _always_ drinks wherever they were.

“Duh,” Yuto said. “I don’t know if Shinwon is coming, but he’s probably in.”

“We’ll be there all day, so just come whenever,” Wooseok said.

Kino looked at Yuto, a smile on his face. “After nine in the morning,” he corrected, looking back to Wooseok and Hyojong.

“Nine?” Wooseok asked.

Yuto coughed out a laugh, smoke leaving with the noise. “Hyunggu and I have plans.”

Hyojong frowned, inhaling smoke. “Oh good,” he said sarcastically. “Scheduled sex.” He tapped the blunt in the side of the wall, watching ash fall to the ground.

Kino and Yuto just laughed together, like it was the best thing they were ever going to do.

Wooseok bumped his shoulder against Hyojong’s, getting his attention. “You have class right now?” he asked. Wooseok wasn’t smoking or anything, just leaning against the wall, watching the rest of the group do their thing.

Hyojong blew smoke out of his nose, holding the joint between his fingers. “Yeah, just chemistry,” he said. It was a useless class, in his opinion, especially since they never fucking learned anything other than what the hell a periodic table was. He was only taking it because it was required, and the professor didn’t care if he was there every day, as long as he did a few stupid worksheets. “You?”

Wooseok shook his head. He was wearing a black baseball cap, hiding how long his hair was getting. “My math class is online, so I only have it on Mondays and Wednesdays,” he explained. Hyojong offered the joint to Wooseok, who shook his head. “Not today, I have a date after this.”

“ _Ooh_ ,” Hyojong teased, poking the taller man in the ribs.

As if by magic, Shinwon appeared next to them, filing his nails, like the pretentious jackass he was. “A date?” he asked excitedly, raising an eyebrow at Wooseok. Hyojong laughed at his grandeur.

Yuto looked at them, and back to his boyfriend, obviously already familiar with the subject. He and Wooseok stayed in the same dorm room, so it was no surprise that he already knew. 

Hyojong inhaled smoke, familiar with the burning sensation, and exhaled as he spoke. “With who?” he asked. Wooseok didn’t do a whole lot of talking about his personal life, unlike Shinwon, who told everyone everything there was to know about him. Wooseok told Yuto, probably, but he wasn’t the type of person to tell someone something without being asked first.

Wooseok shrugged, a small smile at his lips. His eyes were focused on an area of the sidewalk. “A friend of a friend,” he said quietly, shyer than Hyojong had ever seen him.

Hyojong smiled. “Adorable.”

Shinwon looked up from his nails to look at Wooseok. “Who’s this friend of a friend?” he asked. Shinwon loved knowing everything, probably in case he ever needed to blackmail someone, or something. Hyojong wouldn’t doubt it.

“His name’s Yanan. He’s one of the Chinese exchange students.” Wooseok looked at Hyojong. “Actually, I think you should meet the guy who introduced us.”

Hyojong blew smoke in Shinwon’s direction, earning a scowl. “Why?” he asked, putting the blunt back between his lips. He didn’t really meet new people, in general. He liked the four people he already knew, he didn’t see much of a point of trying to branch out and getting annoyed by people he didn’t know. He liked to stick to what he already knew, especially when it came to friends.

Students were starting to buzz around the campus, this hour’s classes just getting out. People passed them sitting on the wall, either avoiding eye contact at all costs, or giving them dirty, confused looks. Hyojong blew smoke at the people who stared for too long.

Wooseok stood up to his full height, stretching his long legs. His hands were shoved in the pockets of his jacket. “I think you two would get along,” he said.

Yuto snorted, holding his cigarette between his index and middle fingers. Kino was practically sitting on his lap, letting his head fall back onto the taller man’s shoulder. “Hyojong, getting along with people?”

“Be nice,” Kino said quietly, no bite in his voice. Yuto could have probably killed someone, and Kino would have responded with the same, exact thing. They were weirdly attached to each other, Hyojong always thought so. They just got along _too well_. Couples were fucking weird.

Hyojong shook his head, his hair moving with him. “Nah, he’s right,” he said, looking at Kino. He looked at Wooseok. “What makes you think we’ll get along?” he asked. Unless this person was willing to give Hyojong and abundance of weed, for free, Hyojong really wasn’t that interested. Wooseok was a nice kid, though, so he supposed he’d go along with it.

Wooseok looked down at himself, adjusting his jacket. “Can I wear this on a date?” he asked, looking up at Hyojong. Hyojong shrugged.

“No,” Shinwon said.

At the same time, Yuto said “sure,” giving a small shrug of his leather-clad shoulders.

Wooseok decided to ignore Shinwon, and nodded, pleased with his best friend’s response. He looked back to Hyojong. “I just think you would,” he said. “I think he’s your type.”

Hyojong rolled his eyes, blowing smoke out through his nostrils. “I don’t need to be set up with anyone.” They were in college, he wasn’t exactly in a hurry to get married, or anything. Plus, finding someone who didn’t clash with his highly disagreeable personality would be a real difficulty, and he wasn’t willing to put that much effort in anything. And then, “I have a type?”

Shinwon scoffed. Yuto and Wooseok smiled in surprise. Kino raised his eyebrows. Well.

“Yeah, you do,” Shinwon said, as if it were the most obvious thing on the planet. Hyojong didn’t think he had a type—whoever was hot, was hot. He wasn’t looking for a certain type of person, to be attracted to, he wasn’t going to restrict himself that much. “You like really loud people.”

Yuto laughed. “That’s so true,” he said. Kino looked up at him, nose wrinkling as he laughed, too.

“No, I fucking don’t,” Hyojong said, laughing with his friends. They came up with the weirdest shit. “If I liked loud people, I’d _love_ you.” He pointed his joint at Shinwon accusingly, earning a dramatic gasp.

“You kind of do,” Kino said, giving an apologetic smile. “Whenever you check anyone out, they’re being really loud.” The rest of them nodded in agreement.

Hyojong laughed. “I’m probably glaring at them,” he said. He glared at a lot of people he saw, on campus. “That’s too vague of a description to be an actual type, anyway.”

“First of all,” Shinwon sighed, slipping his nail file into his bag. “There’s a very clear difference between you glaring at someone, and you checking them out. Trust me.” Hyojong rolled his eyes. “You like loud, thin people, with nice skin.”

Well. Shinwon’s description didn’t sound _unpleasant_. Who didn’t like people with nice skin? The rest he couldn’t say he liked nor disliked, since that could pretty much be anyone. Clear skin was good, though. What was wrong with that? That wasn’t weird. That didn’t mean Hyojong had a _type_.

Hyojong sucked down smoke, like it was the only thing keeping him sane. In a way, it really was. “Does this friend of yours fit into my ‘type?’” he asked, smoke billowing up into the air.

“Pretty much.” Wooseok’s eyes moved over Hyojong’s head, to look behind him. “See for yourself.” He raised a hand up, waving at someone. “Hui!” he called.

Hyojong turned around to see who Wooseok was talking about, immediately noticing dark maroon hair. Wait, he knew that fucker. And, in case anyone was wondering, he _did_ have nice skin. But he was also the worst person in the fucking world. “You want me to meet that guy?” Hyojong asked incredulously. Wooseok nodded. “The class rep? Are you kidding me?” he was in Hyojong's chemistry class, and it was safe to say, he was the preppiest person Hyojong had ever seen. He was exactly the type of goody-two-shoes Hyojong hated the most.

Great, he was walking up to them.

“I’m Hwitaek,” he said, offering Hyojong a hand to shake, when he was close enough for Hyojong to actually be able to see him.

Oh.

Hwitaek smiled.

 _Oh_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyojong interacts with Hwitaek for the first time, and has very mixed feelings throughout.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter is here already! I've gotten so many kudos just in the past day or so, and I really appreciate all of you! I'm glad people seem to be enjoying this so far, and I hope they continue to enjoy as this fic goes on.
> 
> Thank you!

“Friends call me Hui,” he introduced, hand still extended out for Hyojong. The first thing that pissed Hyojong off about him, was how uniform and catalogue his clothes were. Since they were all in college, uniforms didn’t exist, but Hwitaek didn’t seem to get the message. He was wearing tan slacks, with a matching blazer, and a white button up, complete with a striped, red tie. All of his clothes were void of wrinkles, or unclean lines. He was dressed like he was in some preppy academy high school, and it made Hyojong want to swear at him. The second thing that Hyojong noticed about him, was his face. He had a wide, bright smile, that made his eyes turn into tiny crescents. Hyojong had never seen anyone with such a wide, bright smile, before. Hyojong couldn’t look away, and he wondered if he’d really gotten that high, so quickly.

He didn’t shake Hwitaek’s hand, or whatever he’d wanted him to do. “Hwitaek,” Hyojong said, with a curt not of his head. He hadn’t known his name, but he did know of him. Hwitaek was the class representative, or class president, or whatever it was called. He was notoriously cheerful, and awfully preppy. He was exactly what a class president was expected to be, and I really annoyed Hyojong, The most surprising thing about him, was that his hair was coloured anything other than plain brown. The dark maroon colour made his honey-toned skin seem like it was glowing—which was _beside the point_ —and it really didn’t fit the whole ‘perfect example’ thing he had going on. “You have coloured hair,” Hyojong commented.

Hwitaek looked confused for a moment, pulling his hand away from Hyojong, so it could touch at his own hair. A bright expression snapped onto his face as he realized what Hyojong was talking about. “Oh,” he said with a nervous laugh. “Yeah, I just dyed it a bit ago. I just wanted to try something different, but I don’t know if it’s my thing.”

“It looks good,” Hyojong said, all too quickly.

“I like it,” Wooseok agreed, nodding his head. Shinwon gave wide nods of his head, making sure to be as dramatic as he possibly could be, as always.

“It’s a really pretty colour,” Kino smiled widely, leaning back against Yuto. Hyojong didn’t care who you were, if you got complimented by Kino like that, you’d be a blushing mess. Kino was just _so nice_. Yuto nodded.

Hwitaek’s hair did look good. It complimented his skin tone well. And, to be completely honest, _Hwitaek_ looked good. Despite how annoyingly peppy Hwitaek was, and how much model students irritated Hyojong, Hwitaek was good looking. There, Hyojong said it. He’d been thinking it as soon as he laid his eyes on Hwitaek’s annoying face, and he finally admitted to it. Hwitaek was good looking. Like, really fucking good looking. His features were perfectly proportionate and symmetrical, from his round, weirdly sparkly eyes, to his thick, distractingly plump lips. His nose was so perfectly straight, Hyojong didn’t even understand it. All he knew was that Hwitaek was too damned pretty, and it made Hyojong even more annoyed with him.

“Oh,” Hwitaek laughed, beaming at the compliments. “Thank you.”

Hyojong just shrugged, unhappy that he’d even complimented this guy, in the first place. He shouldn’t go around complimenting goody-two-shoes like this. They’d just get it in their heads, and be more egotistical than they already were.

“This is Hyojong,” Kino introduced, pointing to the blond. Hyojong just held his joint between his lips, puffing smoke out of his nose.

“He’s the friend we’ve been telling you about,” Wooseok said, leaning back against the wall.

Hwitaek’s eyes snapped up to where Hyojong was sitting on the wall. “You’re Hyojong?” he asked. Hyojong nodded. “We have chem together. Actually,” he flipped his backpack around and fished out a couple papers. “We’re lab partners for this next unit.” He handed Hyojong a packet of papers that explained what the next unit would consist of.

Was this a fucking joke? Did Hyojong’s friends finally manage to pull a prank on him? Did they really hire this prep just to fuck with Hyojong? He looks around the group, hoping that they’d start laughing, and admit to everything being one, terrifying elaborate joke. Unfortunately, Hwitaek seemed serious, and the rest of them had no such reactions. There was no way in _hell_ that Hyojong was going to be able to be _lab partners_ with this guy for an entire unit. He should drop the class. That wasn’t being dramatic. H could drop the course before he had to spend any sort of time with Hwitaek, and all would be well. Of course, if he dropped it at this point, he’d leave with a failing grade. Fuck him for skipping, right? If he failed now, he’d just have to retake it, still having to pay for the failed class, and it’d just be a whole new batch of idiots, with no promise of a passing grade. Son of a bitch.

Hwitaek was looking at Hyojong expectantly, so Hyojong sighed. “Can’t you just do all the work for me?” he asked. Hwitaek was a model student, he had to at least be kind of smart. Plus, Hyojong was just going to make things harder for Hwitaek by never showing up, or losing their work, or just purely being hard to work with, since he could care less about some stupid, useless project about stem cells.

Hwitaek laughed loudly, as if Hyojong had been joking. Which he definitely had not been. This Hwitaek kid was either really dumb, or really, really fucking happy to be here. “No, of course not,” he grinned. “The whole point of the project is to work with someone else.” That was precisely Hyojong’s issue with it.

Hyojong frowned, blowing smoke into the red-haired man’s face. Hopefully Hwitaek wouldn’t be able to tell that he wasn’t just smoking a cigarette. If Hyojong got reported, he’d know who to kill. “You should switch partners, then,” he said dully, staring down at Hwitaek. It was unfair that someone so polar opposite to Hyojong got to be so infuriatingly attractive. “I’ll just bring your grade down.”

Hwitaek was still smiling. Obviously, neither Hyojong’s obvious uninterest, nor his unenthused demeanor was doing anything to damped Hwitaek’s bubbly personality. “That’s okay, we can work together to make sure it’s good.” He put his hand on Hyojong’s bicep in a friendly way. Hyojong considered hissing at him. Instead, he just stayed still, making sure not to move. “If you need help, I’m really good at teaching other people.”

Hyojong restrained himself from rolling his eyes. “Great,” Hyojong said in a monotone voice. He wanted to yell at Hwitaek for being so _predictable_. Of course he was good at teaching other people, could he see himself? Hyojong would have been more surprised if he hadn’t been good at teaching. How could someone be so predictable in everything they did? Was there nothing that made Hwitaek want to be different from every stereotype of a class president? What was the point of being like everyone expected you to be like? Even Hyojong, set in his neutral ways, was different than most people expected him to be. 

Wooseok kept adjusting his hat and jacket, switching from leaning on the wall, to standing up as straight as he could manage. “I have to go soon, but—”

Hwitaek practically jumped up and down. “Are you going on your date with Yananie?” he asked excitedly, looking up at the taller man. _Yananie_. Hwitaek even _talked_ cute. Hyojong _definitely_ regretted thinking it, as soon as it was in his head, but oh well. It was true enough.

“Yeah,” Wooseok said. He dragged his hands over his face, pulling his large features down. Even though Shinwon didn’t say anything, Hyojong could practically hear him telling Wooseok that doing that was just going to make his age faster. “I’m really nervous.” Wooseok was fidgeting his feet, stepping and tapping them in place.

Kino put a hand on Wooseok’s arm. “It’ll be great,” he said assuringly, giving that signature smile of his.

Yuto nodded. “You’re great, dude,” he said. He smacked his best friend on the side of the arm, giving him a wide smile.

“Don’t even worry about it,” Hwitaek smiled. “Yanan is nervous, too. Excited, but nervous.” Did this guy ever stop smiling? He’d been smiling since the moment he’d introduced himself, and most of it was directed at Hyojong. Since his smile was undeniably Hwitaek’s best feature—and Hyojong meant the entirety of it, not just his mouth, but also his eyes, and cheeks, and lips, and entire face—it was making it hard for Hyojong to focus on anything else.

“Really?” Wooseok asked. Hwitaek nodded enthusiastically. Wooseok took a deep breath. “Anyway, we’re all hanging out tomorrow, and you should join us,” he said to Hwitaek.

Hyojong did roll his eyes, this time, and they were all lucky he hadn’t chosen to scream at the top of his fucking lungs. He loved Wooseok, he really did, but what the hell was he thinking? Hyojong had never met someone so opposite of everything Hyojong loved, and everything he knew. Everything Hyojong had ever liked, he was sure Hwitaek was against. Everything he was sure Hwitaek liked, he knew he hated. Did Wooseok really think that this _square_ was going to just fit into their group? Doubtful.

His eyes were narrowed down at Hwitaek. “Yeah, but there’s going to be drinking and stuff, so if you don’t like that, I wouldn’t recommend coming.” In other words, don’t come at all. He didn’t want Hwitaek fussing about them drinking or smoking, or even worse, ratting them out for the abundance of alcohol they had in a couple of minor’s dorms.

Hwitaek just _smiled_. Right at Hyojong. Hyojong would have loved to understand what the hell was happening inside of his body, and _why the fuck_ he felt like smiling back at him. Maybe he did, he couldn’t fucking tell. His damned face felt numb. “Oh, I don’t mind,” Hwitaek said, lips pouted out when he spoke. “I don’t drink or smoke, myself, but I don’t mind being around it.”

“Alright,” Wooseok said, clapping Hyojong and Hwitaek on the back. He was standing up straight, now. Maybe Hyojong’s rage was fueling his confidence. Good for him. “I have to get going, now, but I’ll see all of you tomorrow. I’ll text you all the info, okay?” Hwitaek nodded. Wooseok walked off, leaving Hyojong to glare at Hwitaek, like he’d never glared at anyone before.

“I don’t drink, either,” Shinwon said, turning his head to look at Hwitaek.. He sighed loudly and dramatically. “Bad for the physique.”

Hyojong snorted loudly, letting out a laugh. Shinwon was _convinced_ that alcohol would made him gain weight, but Hyojong thought otherwise. Besides, as much as Shinwon ate, and didn’t gain a pound, Hyojong thought he’d live if he had a drink or so, every weekend. “I’m doing just fine,” he pointed out. As much as he smoked and rank, he was doing great. That being said, he wasn’t an alcoholic, or anything. He just liked having fun. But he was in decent shape.

Hwitaek’s eyes moved over Hyojong’s whole body, as if he’d be able to see how healthy Hyojong was, under his layers of thick, baggy clothes. They lingered on the holes in Hyojong’s ants, ripped open wide around his knees and thighs. “I’ve just never drank before,” Hwitaek said, innocent eyes wide.

“What the fuck?” Hyojong blurted, before he could even consider stopping himself. Hwitaek looked at him, confused with the sudden outburst.

“Really?” Kino asked, being pulled onto his boyfriend’s lap, by a pair of grabby hands. He happily adjusted so he could sit on top of Yuto. “Not even one drink?”

“Not even one,” Hwitaek confirmed. When he wasn’t smiling, he looked thoroughly focused, eyes naturally wide, lips forming a circle. It just made his high cheekbones become even more prominent.

Hyojong laughed. “Your life sucks,” he commented, putting his joint up to his lips. He couldn’t even imagine not drinking when he hung out with his friends. Half of the fun was being able to get as high and drunk as he could, and laugh at how dumb his friends were when they were high and drunk. He inhaled smoke, blowing it out, onto Hwitaek’s face. “If I get you hammered, will you do the project for me?”

Hwitaek’s hand came up to touch Hyojong’s arm, again. His thin fingers were resting against the black leather of Hyojong’s jacket, but Hyojong could practically feel his touch on his bare arm. “No,” he laughed, leaning closer to Hyojong as he did, the sound coming out more like a cackle. “You’ll have to do even more of the work.” He looked up at Hyojong, and winked.

Hyojong forgot the retort he had locked and loaded. Hell, he forgot everything he was going to say, and everything they had been talking about. He even managed to majorly choke on an inhale, sputtering smoke out of his mouth and nose.

He heard Yuto laugh joyously, and shot him a dirty look. He promised to kick Shinwon’s ass, later, for the snickers he was letting loose.

What was wrong with him? Hwitaek had just winked, it wasn’t like he’d started stripping, or asked Hyojong to marry him, or something. He’d just winked. Closed one of his eyes in a playful and friendly gesture. Hwitaek wasn’t even _that_ good looking. That was a complete lie. Hwitaek truly _was_ that good looking, but he was also the class president, and a long list of other obnoxious things.

“You really shouldn’t smoke,” Hwitaek said matter-of-factly, looking between Yuto and Hyojong, but mostly at Hyojong. “It’s not good for you.” It was gone. Any thought of Hwitaek being attractive was gone just as quickly as it’d come, as soon as he said that. Thank god. Hyojong was starting to feel crazy, or at least _way_ higher than he actually was.

“I know,” Hyojong said quickly. He looked down at Hwitaek as he wrapped his lips around the end of his joint, inhaling deeply. Yuto just shrugged, like the silent giant he was.

“I figured,” Hwitaek shrugged. He wrapped his hands around the straps of his backpack, looking like an excited elementary schooler, about to be sent off to his first day of school. “Well, I’d better get going. I have a test next week, that I should probably be studying for.” He smiled and looked at the four of them.

“We’ll see you tomorrow, then?” Shinwon asked, carefully moving a piece of his bangs out of his face.

“Sure,” Hwitaek said, practically blinding Hyojong with his smile. What was that Hyojong had thought about Hwitaek no longer being attractive? Yeah, it was invalid as hell. He was starting to hate himself.

“I can’t wait,” Kino smiled. He was always so fucking nice to people. Hyojong thought it was good to keep him around, since the rest of the group was filled with a bunch of quiet, antisocial assholes. Kino balanced them out well, and kept them from dying in their own silence.

Hwitaek looked up at Hyojong. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said in a particularly cute voice. Hyojong may or may not have given him a small smile. He wanted to hit himself.

“Yeah,” he scowled, more at himself than anything.

Hwitaek gave him a small wave, his eyes shaped into crescents by his smile. “Bye,” he said, the same cute tone in his voice.   
As Hwitaek walked away, Hyojong noticed the intriguing sway of his shoulders, and the way he smiled at everyone he passed. He also noticed how flattering those slacks looked at the back of his thighs. Hyojong crossed his arms over his chest, carful to not let his joint burn a hole in his jacket. He had far too many jackets with burns on them. He didn’t want to add another to his collection. He sighed as he watched Hwitaek walk across campus, towards the dorms. “I hate him.”

Shinwon snorted loudly. “Bet.”

“Actually, Yuto, can I bum a cigarette off of you?” He held his hand out, to which Yuto so kindly placed one in his hands. Hyojong only needed cigarettes when he got stressed out. This kid stressed him the fuck out, for so many reasons. Hyojong put his joint out on the top of the brick wall and shoved it in the pocket of his leather jacket. He put the cigarette between his lips, lighting it. This was the definition of chain smoking. Hyojong wasn’t proud, but he also understood that if he didn’t get a cigarette in his mouth, he was going to run across the campus and strangle Hwitaek to death. He pointedly glared at Shinwon. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Shinwon crossed his arms, raising a shaped eyebrow at the blond. Hyojong couldn’t make fun of him for that one—Hyojong had a stripe shaved into his eyebrow, just because he’d gotten bored, one day. Nonetheless, Shinwon’s knowing expression was annoying. “I don’t think you hate Hui.”

Hyojong blew the cigarette smoke in Shinwon’s face. “Bullshit I don’t.” Shinwon waved a hand in front of his face, nose wrinkled at the smell.

“I don’t know,” Yuto said vaguely, shrugging his broad shoulders. He was holding his cigarette between his lips, puffing out smoke with every exhale he took. Kino was still sitting on his lap, the taller man’s chin resting on his shoulder. Yuto’s hands were around Kino’s waist, Kino’s hands laced with his.

“What don’t you know?” Hyojong asked, eyes narrowed, the cigarette moving between his lips as he spoke.

Yuto blew smoke out of his nose. “I think you kind of liked him,” he said. Shinwon nodded his head, in the annoyingly dramatic way he always did, when he was trying to make a point. He made sure Hyojong knew how much he agreed with Yuto.

“Absolutely the fuck not.”

Kino nodded. “I think so, too.” Screw what Hyojong said about Kino being nice, and balancing them out. He was an asshole, too. “You were really nice to him.”

Hyojong scoffed. His friends were fucking delusional. Yeah, that was exactly it. He couldn’t trust what they said, they were crazy. “No, I was _not_ ,” he argued. He had made _sure_ to be at least a little mean to Hwitaek, just because Hwitaek was so obnoxious, and Hyojong didn’t want him coming around them, ever, ever again. Hyojong _hated_ model student type, perfect smile, class president preps like Hwitaek. It was one of those things he’d known forever, and would continue to know, until he was old and dying, and wouldn’t even remember his own damned name.

“You checked him out like, eight times,” Shinwon said. He was looking at Hyojong like he was either lying, or very unobservant. Hyojong was neither. Shinwon was just as idiot. “I’m not blind. Wooseok would agree, if he were here.”

“I literally did not even look at him,” Hyojong said. That was a lie, obviously. He had looked at Hwitaek kind of a lot, since that was the proper thing to don when someone was speaking, but he hadn’t _checked him out_. He hadn’t even thought about doing that.

“You also complimented him,” Yuto pointed out. So now Yuto could talk. Under any other circumstance, Yuto would have most likely been quiet, just watching everything happen in front of him, but now he was deciding to speak up. Great timing.

Hyojong groaned loudly, sliding his body down the wall. He couldn’t deny that he’d complimented Hwitaek. That was his mistake, and he’d take it back, if he could. Hyojong closed his eyes, contemplating murder, as he inhaled smoke. “That doesn’t mean I fucking like him,” he said. “He’s loud, and obnoxious, and the class president. I hate people like that.” God help Hyojong if he actually had to work with Hwitaek for his shitty chemistry class. Hwitaek was probably a know-it-all, too, which was the _literal_ worst thing a person could be. Hyojong would either light himself on fire, or kill Hwitaek. Either way, things were not going to end well for Hyojong. “Let me compliment who I want.” Or, in this case, who he _didn’t_ want to compliment. Sometimes, shit just happened.

“It did kind of seem like you liked him,” Kino shrugged. “Maybe we were just imagining it.” Hyojong would like to take his previous statement about Kino back, again. Kino was an angel, and Hyojong loved him.

“You did,” Hyojong promised. No way was what they were saying correct. They just wanted a new friend in their group, for some unknown, ungodly reason, so they were pushing Hyojong to like that guy. It was obvious.

“I’m just saying,” Shinwon sighed, sounding defeated. Good. He didn’t know what he was talking about, clearly. None of them did. “If you come back in a month, and tell me you want to get all up in that, I told you so.”

“Hhmph,” Hyojong grunted, not gracing Shinwon’s statement with a response.

He didn’t know in what world he’d ever say something like that to Shinwon, even if it were true, which it never would be. Hwitaek was the most Type A, extroverted, stereotypical person Hyojong had ever met in his entire life. Hyojong wouldn’t ever be able to like him, platonically or otherwise, not in a hundred years. Hwitaek was happy, and excited about everything that was happening, and he didn’t even drink, for fuck’s sake. If Hyojong had a type like all of his friends said he did, Hwitaek was the exact replica of what it _wasn’t_. Hyojong couldn’t deal with the type of person who wanted to work on a science project together, or the type that studied for tests, a week in advance. Hyojong wasn’t even sure that studying for tests at all was important. Hwitaek was not the type of person that Hyojong wanted anything to do with. If his friends liked him, cool. If he came to their hangouts, even when he obviously wasn’t welcome, then whatever. Hyojong could live with it. But if Hwitaek was going to be an annoying presence that kept appearing in Hyojong’s life, for science projects, or whenever he wanted to smoke with his friends, or when he was trying to live his life as best as he could, that was going to be an issue. Hyojong couldn’t deal with that type of person staying in his life, trying to be his _friend_ , which he feared Hwitaek would try to do, due to his never ending cheerfulness. He wasn’t afraid to tell Hwitaek to stay away from him, and he’d do it, if it came down to it. He didn’t fucking like Hwitaek.

That being said. There was something about Hwitaek. Now, that _did not, under any circumstances_ , mean that he liked Hwitaek. He did not. But, there was something slightly… intriguing about Hwitaek. For starters, he was pretty hot. That much was clear, enough. He was also too exemplary. Too kind, too perfect, too _much_. There was nothing to him, except for his class presidency, and his model student attitude. He was one dimensional. He was like a piece of plain white drawing paper, that no one was touching. Everyone knew that Hyojong liked drawing. He didn’t like to see a plain piece of paper, or an unblemished sheet of snow, or anything of the sort. Hyojong was an erratic person, who liked to see a bit of chaos, and have fun with it. Cookie cutter shapes were not his thing. Hwitaek was just too perfect. There was something about him, though, that was asking, _begging_ to be molded. Asking to be given a bit of dimension, a bit of an edge. Maybe, even, Hwitaek wanted to be corrupted.

And _hell_ if Hyojong wasn’t going to try to give him what he wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why Shinwon turned into a diva in this, but he did lol
> 
>  _Please, please, please_ leave a comment telling me how you feel about this fic. I'd love to hear all of your feedback, and what you like about this fic, so I can try to make this the best fic it could be!
> 
> Thank you so much!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hwitaek hangs out with the rest of them. Hyojong has mixed feelings about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all! I recently wrote quite a bit of this series, so look forward to more updates! Next chapter is when things start to get spicy.
> 
> Thank you for reading, and enjoy!

Hwitaek was excited. Excited for new friends, excited to go to a party, excited for a lot of things that had seemingly happened all at once. Wooseok was really nice, Kino was insanely nice, Yuto was quiet, but still nice, Shinwon was really odd, but nice enough. And Hyojong was… _hot_. Alluring, really. At first, Hyojong had looked really mean, and sort of scary. He’d been sitting on a wall, smoking, looking down at Hwitaek with dark eyes. He had a shaved part in his eyebrow, and messy blond hair, and the intimidation Hwitaek felt from Hyojong, only made him hotter. And then Hyojong started talking and _smiling_. His smile was just pale pink lips stretching over white teeth, baring his teeth more than anything. When he smiled, his eyes narrowed so much, they just became slits in his pale face. He was pretty, in a really unique way, and it was intriguing. Hyojong had a weird, cackling laugh, and a cute, clipped way of talking. All in all, Hwitaek was excited to go to this party, because he knew Hyojong would be there.

 

“I’m still mad you invited him,” Hyojong said, taking the pipe from Wooseok’s dangerously long fingers. They were sitting on the couch in Yuto and Wooseok’s dorm. Hyojong and Wooseok had decided to smoke a bowl a little bit before the official hangout time started, just for the sake of getting lit and relaxed before everyone got crazy. Hyojong figured the weed would help him deal with Hwitaek, who was undoubtedly going to show up early. Technically, Hyojong was early, too, but only because he’d been here all day.

“I know,” Wooseok sighed. Hyojong had given a full rundown of exactly why he hated Hwitaek, from the preppy clothes he wore, to the annoyingly bubbly way he spoke. He left out the part about him being attractive. “But he’ll be fine. He’s not as bad as he seems.”

Hyojong flicked the lighter above the bowl of the pipe. He watched the bugs of weed light, inhaling the smoke. This was one of his favourite pipes, because it looked exactly like something a wizard would smoke out of. He held the smoke down his throat, and blew it out of his mouth. He snorted. “He told me _not to smoke_ , Wooseok. That’s, like, the catchphrase for every uptight person in the world.” He passed the pipe and lighter to Woosoek.

“Just trust me,” Wooseok said, “he’s a lot cooler once you get to know him.” He put the pipe to his lips, lighting it and inhaling.

“I don’t know about that,” Hyojong said. He didn’t even want to get to know Hwitaek, in the first place. He didn’t like getting to know people who told him what to do. “He’s just so _annoying_.”

Wooseok gave him a look. “You would have thought that Kino was annoying, too, if he wasn’t dating Yuto.” He took another hit, letting smoke drift out of his nostrils.

“Yeah, but Kino’s an angel,” he frowned. He took the pipe from Wooseok, again. And he isn’t the class president.” The room was starting to become hazy with smoke wafting around the air. “Speaking of, where are they?” He’d been at their dorm since fairly early in the afternoon, and he still hadn’t seen either of them, yet. Usually, they were with them, hanging off of each other, or making out, or doing something grossly affectionate like that.

“I think they’re still in bed,” Wooseok said. His long legs were extended onto the coffee table in front of them. “They were awake, earlier, but I think they’re napping, now.”

As he spoke, Hyojong exhaled smoke. “Oh, yeah, their scheduled sex.” He looked at the time on his phone. There was about half an hour until everything officially started. Which meant there was only a small amount of time until the preppy class president showed up. “I’m going to go get them up,” he said, handing the pipe to Wooseok and standing. “Hopefully, they’re not naked.” He went past the kitchen, into the small hallway where their rooms were located. He _really_ hoped they were finished up. He opened the door to Yuto’s room.

“Oh, hey, Hyojong,” Kino smiled. Both he and Yuto were topless, and unfortunately, probably bottomless. Kino was laying halfway on top of Yuto, arms crossed over the other man’s chest. They both had messy hair, and their faces were slightly puffy.

“Gross,” Hyojong scowled. Yuto and Kino laughed happily. “Get up, the thing is in like half an hour.”

“Okay,” Yuto nodded. “I need a cigarette, anyway.” Kino sat up, the blanket thankfully bunching around his waist.

Hyojong took a step back, beginning to close the door. “Wooseok and I are blazing out here, if either of you want to join,” he said, even though he knew neither of them smoked weed.

Kino smoked, “thanks,” and Hyojong shut the door.

Hyojong flopped onto the couch next to Wooseok.

“Were they decent?” the taller man asked, handing Hyojong the pipe. The air was completely full of smoke, now, making it hard to see anything that was farther than two feet away.

“Are they ever?” Hyojong chortled. “At least they weren’t fucking.” He inhaled smoke. He was starting to really feel the high, burning warm behind his eyes, and under his skin. He felt the same way he always felt when he got high—like the muscles in his face were tight, and they wanted him to smile. His eyelids felt tight, which was undoubtedly making his eyes half-lidded. Mostly, he just felt light and happy.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Wooseok said, reaching for the pipe. They heard the shower turn on behind the wall, and looked at each other. They started laughing, for no particular reason at all. “Oh, good, they’re showering together,” Wooseok said between loud laughs. For some reason, that was the funniest thing on earth, to Hyojong. He was laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe, and every time he looked at Wooseok’s laughing face, he’d just laugh harder. His stomach hurt from laughing so hard, but he felt so _good_ , he couldn’t even manage to care.

By the time Hyojong finally stopped laughing, he was lying on the floor, looking up at the ceiling. He hadn’t even realized he’d gotten on the floor. “Fuck,” he said, another laugh erupting up from his throat. “That’s so fucking funny. I’m opening the door so we don’t hotbox everyone in here.” He rolled over so he could stand up and open the door. As soon as he swung the door open, he nearly jumped out of his skin. “Holy fuck.”

Hwitaek was standing in front of the door, smiling, of course, a tall blond man at his side. “I didn’t mean to startle you,” Hwitaek said. He wasn’t wearing his preppy uniform anymore, just a plain white t-shirt and jeans. He looked—dare Hyojong even fucking think it—good. Casual. Really fucking good.

“You’re fine,” Hyojong shrugged, snorting at the double meaning of the phrase. He turned around. “Come in. Leave the door open.” He sat back down next to Wooseok, whose eyes were wide.

Hwitaek propped the door open behind them, turning to smile widely at Hyojong and Wooseok. “Yanan, this is Hyojong,” he introduced, looking between the two blonds.

So this was ‘Yananie.’ Wooseok’s new thing. He looked really polite and quiet—Hyojong could see why Wooseok got along with him. He was pretty, too, very pastel and whatnot, kind of similar to Kino’s whole look he had going on.

“Nice to meet you,” Yanan said, looking at Hyojong. Hyojong nodded a greeting. Yanan’s voice was soft. His eyes flickered to Wooseok, just for a second, then to the floor. A small smile formed on his face.

“You brought Yanan,” Wooseok pointed out, looking half terrified, half excited out of his mind. Mostly, he just looked high.

“Yeah, I hope that’s alright,” Hwitaek said. “I figured you two would want to see each other, and I wanted to introduce Yananie to all of you.” He smiled widely at Hyojong, eyes creasing into crescents. Hyojong was sure he smiled right back, even though he hadn’t meant to. He blamed it on the weed.

“It’s okay,” Wooseok said, looking up at Hwitaek. He was obviously trying hard not to look at Yanan, his eyes trained on Hwitaek’s sunny face. Hyojong wondered why he had to be so fucking awkward. “Yuto and Kino are in the shower, and Shinwon is probably going to be late, knowing him.” His eyes finally moved over to Yanan, a shy smile coming over his face. For someone who was twice the size of every other living being, Wooseok sure didn’t act it. “Hey,” he said smoothly. Hyojong rolled his eyes.

Yanan was giving a small smile. “Hey,” he quietly replied.

Hyojong sighed loudly, looking at Wooseok. “What, did the date go bad, or something?” He smacked Wooseok on the arm, urging him to move. “At least kiss him, for fuck’s sake.”

Wooseok looked at Hyojong with wide eyes, and kept nodding his head at top speed. Hyojong raised his eyebrows at him. “Okay,” Wooseok said, but he didn’t move. “Okay.”

“Or don’t, whatever,” Hyojong said, exasperated. It wasn’t his relationship. His closest friend was just awkward, it wasn’t his problem.

“I am, I am,” Wooseok fussed. He stood up, looming over everyone, and looked at Yanan. “Sorry,” he apologized.

Hwitaek laughed loudly, his nose wrinkling. “Why are you apologizing?” he asked. He came forward to smack Wooseok on the arm. Maybe Hwitaek _did_ have some good qualities. Bullying the giant baby known as Wooseok was always a good pastime to have.

“It’s okay,” Yanan said. His cheeks were a light shade of pink. He kept looking up at Wooseok, then back at the floor. Surprisingly, they weren’t that far apart in height. Wooseok was still taller than him, obviously, but it wasn’t like Yanan had to crane his neck to look up at Wooseok, like everyone else did.

“Uh,” Wooseok said. He really had a way with words. Wooseok cautiously shifted forward, leaning down slightly to give Yanan a quick peck on the lips. _That’s_ what he was so nervous about? It hardly lasted a second. It wasn’t like they were making out, or anything. They had no reason to be as nervous as they were.

Hwitaek beamed up at them, as if they’d just improved his year. Which, maybe they had.

Yuto and Kino walked into the living room, their hair and skin glistening with moisture. They were happily bumping into each other. Yuto sent Kino a wink. Kino laughed. Hyojong faked a gag. “Stop being bitter,” Yuto said, a pleased smile on his face. He pulled a cigarette out of the pocket of his tight jeans, and grabbed the lighter off of their coffee table. “Is it cool if I smoke in here?” he asked.

Hwitaek and Yanan nodded, but Kino was already pulling him towards the door. “There’s already too much smoke in here, just do it outside.” Yuto agreed wordlessly, a cigarette already in his mouth.

“I’m not being bitter, you’re just gross,” Hyojong called as Kino pulled Yuto out of the living room. “And you better bring my fucking lighter back.” He could hear Yuto’s high-pitched laugh from outside.

“You guys can sit anywhere,” Wooseok said to Hwitaek and Yanan. He motioned to the chairs behind them, and the shitty wooden chairs they’d moved from their kitchen table.

Hyojong sighed, standing up. “Yanan, sit next to Wooseok,” he said. Yanan gave a small nod, silently moving to sit next to Wooseok. There was still about a foot of space between them. Hyojong put his arms on his hips, tapping his foot impatiently. “I can’t believe I have to be a fucking love guru, around here.”

“Oh, yes,” Wooseok snorted. “You’re absolutely a love guru, Hyojong.”

“Apparently,” Hyojong retorted.

“How’d your date go?” Hwitaek asked, pulling a wooden chair under him, on the other side of the coffee table. He was staring at them expectantly, as if he wanted to know every single detail of their date, down to the colour of their socks. Hyojong wouldn’t have been surprised if he had asked them.

“It was good,” Wooseok said. “I mean,” he looked at Yanan out the side of his eyes, “I think it was good.”

When Yanan was sitting, he looked impossibly small. His legs were closed, hands clasped in his lap. He nodded and looked at Wooseok. “It was good.”

“Y’all fuck?” Hyojong asked casually. Wooseok looked absolutely horrified. Yanan’s face was bright red. “Never mind, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.” They probably didn’t, since Yanan was the shiest person on the planet and Wooseok was a good, pure boy, who also couldn’t stop being awkward if his life depended on it. Shame. Wooseok needed to get laid, in Hyojong’s opinion. Not that Hyojong could talk, but that was beside the point.

Shinwon stepped through the front door, practically striking a pose. His bag was slung over his shoulder, his hip jutted out. “I’m here, sluts,” he said. He looked at them. “That’s you, Hyojong and Wooseok.” He gave a bright, wide smile. “Hui, Yanan, nice to see you, as always.” Wonder who his friends were.

“Fuck you, too,” Hyojong scoffed.

“Nice to see you, too,” Hwitaek grinned.

“You two know each other?” Wooseok asked, referring to Shinwon and Yanan.

“I know everyone,” Shinwon stated, setting his bag down, next to the door. He sat on one of the bigger chairs, crossing one leg over the other.

“We have dance appreciation together,” Yanan explained.

“Anyway, what are we talking about?” Shinwon asked. Hyojong didn’t understand why he had to look so _gaudy_. While everyone else was in regular jeans and t-shirts, Shinwon was decked out in a sweater turtleneck, dress shoes, and a long red coat. He was so annoying sometimes, but so funny that Hyojong had to keep him around. He wouldn’t have been able to make him leave, anyway.

“Wooseok’s date,” Hwitaek told him happily.

Kino and Yuto walked back inside, reeking of cigarette smoke. Kino shut the door behind them, and Yuto threw Hyojong the lighter, landing it right in his lap. They squeezed themselves onto on chair, in a mess of tangled limbs. “Tell us about it,” Kino said. Yuto’s long arms were wrapped around him.

“We just went to a movie,” Wooseok said.

“Fun,” Hwitaek chirped. “Did you have popcorn?”

Hyojong truly did not understand how _popcorn_ was the most interesting part of the story. He wanted to yell at him.

“Yeah,” Yanan said. He looked at Wooseok and smiled.

“What did you two eat?” Shinwon asked. Classic Shinwon. Not worried about the actual date or people, just the commodities.

“Pizza,” Wooseok said. HE flicked his long bangs out of his face so he could smile back at Yanan.

“Classy,” Hyojong commented.

“When was the last time you went on a date?” Wooseok defended. Hyojong saw Yanan just barely shift closer to the taller man, eyes looking down at the hands clasped in his lap.

Hyojong crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t _need_ to go on dates. Who am I supposed to date, anyway, Shinwon?” At this point, it’d be a bigger struggle to find someone who didn’t piss him off, than to find someone willing to date him. If he dated anyone at all, they’d have to fit in his weird categories of standards, and not be annoying. Which made dating nearly impossible to do, since everyone was fucking annoying.

Yuto laughed. “ _Please_ do.”

Shinwon looked Hyojong up and down, only to turn his nose up at him. “No thank you, you are _not_ my type.”

“Yeah,” Hyojong sneered, “you’re not my type either, sweetheart.” Shinwon scoffed offended.

“What _is_ your type, Hyojong?” Yuto asked, eyebrows raising. His gaze pointedly flickered to Hwitaek. If he so much as _entertained_ the thought of Hyojong liking Hwitaek, he’d throw down right here and now. Would Hyojong win? Probably not; Yuto had quite a bit of height and muscle on him. It’d be worth it, though, even to get one swing in.

Hyojong moved away from Hwitaek, sitting on the arm of the couch. “I don’t believe in having a type,” he said. Yuto raised his eyebrows even more.

“What do you mean?” Hwitaek asked. At this point, Hyojong thought Yuto’s eyebrows were going to fly away, right into his hairline. God, Hyojong’s friends were the fucking _worst_.

“I don’t know,” Hyojong said. “Having a type is just restricting yourself to one type of person, which is bullshit. People like whoever they like.” Hwitaek nodded in understanding. “It’s stupid to restrict yourself.”

And he knew what his friends would have said, had Hwitaek not have been in the room. Wasn’t Hyojong’s diversion to Hwitaek a restriction, since he refused to give Hwitaek a chance, just because of the type of person he was? The answer was both yes and no. Yes, because Hyojong strongly disliked a certain brand of person, and he knew that from years of experience. He knew that he didn’t like Hwitaek. On the other hand, no, he was not totally and completely restricting himself, in ways he had thought of before. He still wanted to corrupt Hwitaek. It’d be fun for him to make the class president just a little but less perfect. He wanted to get him to loosen the fuck up, and get him to stop being the exact replica of every class president ever. Wasn’t Hyojong opening his heart up enough?

“What?” Hyojong asked, snapping back to reality. He was pretty sure he’d heard someone say something.

“No one said anything, dude, you just spaced out,” Wooseok said.

“Oh,” Hyojong said. He laughed at himself. “Sorry, I am high as balls. Wooseok, I don’t know where you got this weed, but it is really doing the job.” He held out the pipe to Hwitaek. “Wanna try?”

“No, thank you,” Hwitaek smiled, shaking his head.

Hyojong offered it to Yanan. “You?” The blond just shook his head. It was at the point where everything was _really soft_ and _really warm_ , and Hyojong was feeling top fucking notch. “Fine, I guess I’ll smoke for you guys,” he shrugged. He slid off of the couch, onto the floor, sitting cross-legged. He inhaled more smoke than he probably should have, so he was trying not to cough, but the burn was sort of satisfying, anyway, so he didn’t mind. He leaned back, stabilizing himself on one arm, and blew smoke at the ceiling. He was watching it fade into the air for what felt like hours, when Yuto started laughing that hilarious, high-pitched laugh of his. Hyojong sat up to look at him. “What?”

Hwitaek was standing, trying to get the phone out of Yuto’s hand. “Please—oh, god—that was meant for Yanan, don’t read it,” he sputtered. “Sorry, don’t—”

Yuto was laughing so hard, he was nearly crying, covering his face with a hand. “Hui, I can’t believe—”

“ _Stop_ , oh my god,” Hwitaek whined. “Disregard what you read, please.” He tried to grab Yuto’s phone out of his hand, but the taller man stood, stretching his arm up to the ceiling and making it totally unreachable to Hwitaek. He still tried, though, jumping as high as he could.

“I won’t say anything,” Yuto promised. “Just let me show Wooseok.”

Hyojong didn’t know if it was because he was high, or _what_ , but he had no fucking clue what was going on.

Hwitaek groaned, “fine,” and flopped onto his chair.

Yuto turned the phone towards, Wooseok, the taller man’s eyes scanning over the screen to read. Yanan leaned forward, using this as an excuse to rest his chin on Wooseok’s broad shoulder. Wooseok’s ears turned red, but he didn’t move or acknowledge it.

“I already knew this,” Yanan said, looking at Hwitaek.

“Oh, yeah, I already told you,” Hwitaek laughed. When he laughed, his eyes turned into the smallest crescents in the world, so tiny, Hyojong wondered if he could see anything. Lines formed around his eyes, and smile lines formed by his nose. His smile was wide, revealing perfectly straight, white teeth. His lips formed a large heart shape, a loud laugh pushing past. When Hyojong looked at Hwitaek, he felt even higher than he already was. When Hyojong was high, he felt warm, and comfortable, and relaxed. It made it feel like any sort of contact felt _damn_ good, and Hyojong wanted to touch everything, just because it felt nice. Hwitaek looked warm, and it made Hyojong want to reach out and touch him.

Wooseok’s voice brought Hyojong back to reality, again. “I called it,” he said. When he sat back into the couch, Yanan removed his chin from his shoulder, but at least they were sitting closer than they previously had been.

“What?” Hwitaek asked, looking shocked. Hyojong laughed at the expression on his face. It was cute. “How? Stop talking about it.”

“It’s obvious,” Wooseok shrugged.

“Right?” Yuto agreed. He sat back down next to Kino, the younger man partially sitting on top of him. He shoved his phone back in Kino’s front pocket, so he could envelop him in a back hug.

Hyojong set the pipe on the coffee table as he stood up. “I don’t know what’s happening,” he admitted, “but that’s fine, because I’m going to drink.”

“Can you grab us a beer?” Kino asked.

Hyojong opened the fridge, grabbing himself a bottle of soju, and Kino a beer. “Anyone else want anything?” he asked.

“Do you have wine?” Hyojong heard Yanan ask quietly.

“Grab Yanan some wine,” Wooseok called. “And a glass.”

Hyojong did what he asked, and returned to the living room. He handed the beer to Kino, who thanked him with a wide smile. Hyojong handed the bottle of wine and the glass to Wooseok, who immediately started pouring it for Yanan. Ah, young love.

Hyojong sat back down on the floor, a way across from Hwitaek. He popped open the bottle and took a long drink. “Want some?” he offered to Hwitaek. Sooner or later, he was going to get Hwitaek to do something uncharacteristic. He was too pretty to not do anything a little wild.

“No, thanks,” Hwitaek smiled. “I don’t drink.”

Hyojong shook the bottle of soju, urging Hwitaek. That doesn’t mean you can’t try, though, right?” He wanted to tell Hwitaek to stop being such an annoying fucking square, and just try the damned stuff. It was just alcohol—it wasn’t going to kill him.

“I don’t know,” Hwitaek said. He was looking down at Hyojong, long eyelashes cast downward, light shadows cast over the top of his cheeks. Hyojong hadn’t noticed before, but Hwitaek’s eyes were an impossible dark hue of brown.

Hyojong laid down on the floor, making sure not to spill the soju on the carpet as he did. “You’re just going to stay sober all night?” he asked.

“What’s wrong with that?” Shinwon sniffed.

Hyojong looked at Shinwon, then at Hwitaek. “Nothing, that just seems boring.” He tilted the bottle of soju back so he could take another drink.

“That’s because you’re always busted,” Wooseok said with a laugh. When Hyojong looked up at him, he saw that Wooseok had an arm slung over Yanan’s shoulders.

Hyojong stuck his tongue out at him and fell back onto the floor. “I’m busted right now,” he admitted. “Way fucking busted.”

“Busted?” Hwitaek asked innocently. That was cute. Hyojong laughed.

“It means he’s high, and on his way to getting wasted,” Shinwon explained. “And he’s also going to have one hell of a hangover tomorrow.”

Hyojong sat up on his elbows to look at Hwitaek. “You’re not going to rat us out, or anything, right?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. He held his hand out in Wooseok’s direction, who carefully placed the pipe and lighter in his hand. Hyojong set the bottle of soju on the coffee table by his head. He lit the bowl of the pipe, inhaling smoke.

Hwitaek cocked his head to the side. “No, why would I?” he asked. “You guys are my friends.”

Hyojong snorted, choking on some smoke. “You’re also the class president.”

Hwitaek actually looked a little offended. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I’ll tell on you,” he said.

Hyojong looked at Hwitaek, for a second. Something about that plain white t-shirt made him look _really_ good. It made his skin look even tanner, and his dark hair even brighter. “Fine,” Hyojong huffed. “Might as well drink something, then. So you really can’t tell on us.” He didn’t care whether he said he wouldn’t tell, or not. Hwitaek’s entire job was to act like he was better than everyone else, and be the perfect role model. If Hwitaek drank, too, he’d just be telling on himself.

“Hyojong, don’t be that way,” Kino said, eyebrows knit.

“Stop being an asshole,” Yuto agreed, adjusting the cigarette tucked behind his ear.

“It’s okay,” Hwitaek said. He wasn’t smiling, but he didn’t look _mad_. He just had a smooth, neutral expression on his face. Hyojong decided that Hwitaek was pretty, regardless of his expression. “I’ll do it, if you don’t believe me.”

“You don’t have to listen to him,” Shinwon said. “He’s just being weird.”

“We believe you won’t tell,” Wooseok said.

“It’s okay,” Hwitaek repeated. “I kind of want to, anyway.” Hwitaek got up off of his chair, and leaned over to grab the bottle of soju next to Hyojong. While he was leaned over Hyojong, his eyes flickered to Hyojong’s face. Hyojong reached up to grab the bottle, and their fingers overlapped. Hwitaek’s face was just hovering over Hyojong’s.

“Whatever,” Hyojong said. God, Hwitaek’s skin was smooth. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” But there was no way to tell if Hwitaek wasn’t a snake, unless he did. Hwitaek’s lips weren’t chapped, or even slightly dry. They were just perfectly plump, and pink, and quite possibly the most distracting thing Hyojong had ever seen. He swallowed hard. What the hell was wrong with him?

Hwitaek pulled the bottle out of Hyojong’s reach. “I’ll try it. It’s just alcohol.” Those thick lips wrapped around the opening of the bottle. He tipped his head back, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed liquid.

Holy shit, what was happening to Hyojong? He shot up from the floor, practically jumping out the door. “I’m going outside for a second,” he said. He closed the door behind him, sitting on the small cement stairs. He didn’t want to believe it, but he was pretty sure he’d almost popped a boner. While it was normal to get horny when high or drunk, it was _not_ normal to get horny while watching the class president drink. It wasn’t normal to watch the class president do _anything_ , because he was the class president, for fuck’s sake. Regardless of how annoyingly, undeniably _attractive_ he was, it just wasn’t normal. Hyojong was mad at himself for even finding Hwitaek attractive, in the first place, and now this? It went against everything Hyojong ever believed, and it really pissed him off.

The door swung open, and Wooseok sat next ot Hyojong. “What’s up?” he asked. He smelled like smoke.

“Oh, nothing,” Hyojong shrugged. “I’m just being dramatic.”

“What a surprise,” Wooseok chuckled. What could Hyojong say? He had a knack for the dramatic fine arts.

Hyojong smiled, then sighed. “I’m pretty sure I want to fuck Hwitaek.” Jesus Christ, he hated even saying it. It sounded awful, and guilty, and overall just fucking disgusting. Hyojong grimaced.

“Yeah,” Wooseok smiled, “I know.”

“I hate myself,” Hyojong groaned. “He’s just so _hot_.”

Wooseok wrinkled his nose. “Hate it,” he laughed. “But the good news is, Hui think you’re hot, too.”

Hyojong perked up. “What?”

Wooseok shook his head at Hyojong’s obvious change of mood. “He accidentally texted Yuto that he thinks you’re hot. More specifically, ‘really really spicy hot’ with the chili emoticon.” He chuckled.

Hyojong wasn’t sure if this made him feel better, or not. The emoticon was definitely weird. But this meant that there was a possibility that Hyojong would be able to fuck Hwitaek. It also meant that there was a possibility that Hyojong would fuck the class president. IT was cool—flattering, really—that someone as preppy and pristine as Hwitaek thought that Hyojong’s delinquency was hot. Hyojong would have initially thought that Hwitaek would have been attracted to people more like him, instead of the polar opposite. Hyojong was pretty sure he himself just wanted to fuck Hwitaek for the sake of corrupting him, anyway. That was the whole thing. He liked seeing pristine people be anything but. He liked making those people who annoyed him become like him. He liked ruining that perfect image that they held onto so dearly.

Hyojong smiled. “I wanna do some really gross stuff to him,” he sighed. To see the model student Hwitaek in the ways that Hyojong wanted to see him—what a fucking _thought_ , honestly. Pretty Hwitaek, laying down under Hyojong, on top of Hyojong, on his knees- the thought was too much to handle.

“You’re disgusting,” Wooseok laughed. He stood up, brushing his pants off with his ridiculously large hands.

Hyojong looked up at him. “Do you think he’s a prude?” It’d make sense for someone as innocent and naïve as Hwitaek to be closed off to things like that. Some people weren’t as casual with sex as Hyojong was. It differed from person to person. It was one of the few things Hyojong couldn’t really get mad about. Sex was sex.

“I don’t know,” Wooseok said. He helped Hyojong stand up. “If he thinks _you’re_ hot, he can’t be that bad.”

Hyojong snorted. “That’s fair.” He’d already gotten Hwitaek to drink. Sure, he’d been kind of an asshole about it, but he’d still done it. He could probably get Hwitaek to smoke, at some point. That was already a decent amount of corruption achieved, given Hwitaek’s position in the college. And if Hyojong managed to sleep with Hwitaek? Well. He was pretty sure that would push Hwitaek over the edge. There was no scenario where sleeping with Hyojong wouldn’t possible corrupt Hwitaek.

That was just the type of person that Hyojong was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please, please leave a comment telling me how you feel about this fic. I'd love to hear all of your feedback, and what you like about this fic, so I can try to make this the best fic it could be!
> 
> Thank you so much!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyojong and Hwitaek decide to work on their science project, but not everything goes the way Hyojong expected. He has mixed feelings about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sO excited for you all to read this chapter. I think this is where everything is going to get really exciting!
> 
> Enjoy!

“I assume I’m not allowed to smoke in here?” Hyojong asked, looking around Hwitaek’s dorm. It was a hell of a lot nicer than Yuto and Wooseok’s was. Theirs’ looked like a dingy motel, whereas Hwitaek’s looked like a suit. It even had a stove, for fuck’s sake. It was clean, and fancier than any other dorm, and Hyojong wanted to point out how _typical_ it was for Hwitaek to live here. Really, it was exactly what Hyojong would have expected.

Hwitaek looked back at him and smiled. “If you have to smoke, please do it outside,” he said. He led Hyojong into his room, where a desk sat, a laptop and notebooks on top. Hwitaek, the red headed bastard, had finally convinced Hyojong to work on their stupid science project, after days of him pestering Hyojong over text. Hyojong was pretty sure that Wooseok gave Hwitaek his number, and he really wanted to kill him for it.

Hyojong nodded. “So, what’s our stupid project on?” he asked. Honestly, he didn’t even remember if it was supposed to be about anything at all. After Hwitaek had given him the packet with all of the information on it, Hyojong had been to pissed off to read it. When Hyojong had actually gone to class, he’d just listened to lectures, so he was really lost as to why he was being forced to be here with Hwitaek.

The good news was, now that Hyojong was sober, Hwitaek wasn’t nearly as thought as Hyojong remembered him to be.

Hwitaek turned towards Hyojong, a smile stretched over his plump lips. “That’s what we’re figuring out right now,” he said. He pushed a hand through his fading red hair, moving it away from his forehead. Hyojong choked on air. Never mind. Really, Hyojong should just stay quiet on how attractive Hwitaek was. When it came down to it, Hwitaek was hot as hell. Enough said.

“You should have just come up with something,” Hyojong complained. He’d go along with whatever Hwitaek wanted to do. He was the class president, he was _obviously_ the smarter of the two, and he actually knew what they were supposed to be doing. He should have just come up with whatever, so Hyojong didn’t have to waste his time with it. “I’m only here because you won’t do all of the work for me.”

Hwitaek sat down in the chair in front of his desk, spinning to look at the blond. “Exactly,” he laughed. “We have to come up with a concept _together_ , so we both have a part in the project.”

Hyojong was standing in the middle of Hwitaek’s room, rather awkwardly. Hwitaek’s bed was made, and all of his shoes were neatly lined up by the wall. Everything was in it’s exact place, and it made Hyojong want to mess up all of it. “I don’t _want_ a part in it,” he reminded. “You should just do it and get a better grade.” He didn’t want to do this at all. He hardly went to that class in the first place. He didn’t want to pretend to put effort in a stupid project. He didn’t want to do the project, or be at Hwitaek’s stupid, fancy dorm, or be near Hwitaek at all, actually.

“Come on, it won’t be that bad,” the red-haired man assured. Hyojong _really_ doubted that. “We’re friends now, we can make it fun.” Hyojong almost corrected him. They were not friends in any way, shape, or form. Hwitaek was just friends with Hyojong’s friends. It didn’t make them friends by default. Hyojong just happened to have a very complicated relationship concerning Hwitaek’s peppy personality, versus the way jeans looked on his legs. That wasn’t the slightest qualifier of friendship. Hyojong alternated between wanting to strangle Hwitaek to death, and wanting to take his stupid, preppy clothing off of him.

“There’s no way for this to be fun,” Hyojong promised. “Science isn’t fun.” Science was actually the _worst_. He could live with literacy class, and he enjoyed art classes, but science? Not for him.

“Sure it is,” Hwitaek said.

Hyojong groaned. “For you, sure, because you’re good at everything.” He crossed his arms over his chest. He was fueling the class president’s ego, but whatever. Of course Hwitaek would say that it could be fun. Hwitaek probably thought that _everything_ was fun. He always looked pleased to do whatever he happened to be doing, at the moment. “Trust me, it won’t be fun.”

“I’m not good at everything,” Hwitaek said, 

Hyojong snorted. “Right. I’m sure.”

“Really, I’m not,” Hwitaek insisted. “I do well in school just because I work hard and study. It’s not easier for me than it is for other people. I’m just used to motivating myself to be successful.”

The blond rolled his eyes. “Well, I’m _not_ ,” he said. He didn’t like to do a lot of work, so there was no reason for him to try to motivate himself. He didn’t strive for better, like Hwitaek. He just wanted to get through college, so he could leave. “And I don’t think you’re _bad_ at anything. I didn’t say it was easy.”

“I’m bad at a lot of things,” Hwitaek said quickly. Hyojong didn’t know why they were still arguing about this. He was just fueling Hwitaek’s ego for no reason. “I’m bad at talking quietly and hiding how I’m feeling.”

“Sounds like a real issue,” Hyojong deadpanned. It was already clear that Hwitaek was loud and obnoxious. That didn’t seem like something that made someone’s life harder.

“I’m also incredibly bad at trying new things,” Hwitaek said, with a short laugh. “I’m really set in my ways.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” Hyojong said. “Just try new things. Get a little drunk, smoke a little weed. I don’t know. It’s your life, I don’t care what you do. Don’t listen to me if you don’t want to.”

Hwitaek looked at Hyojong’s face for a really long time. His round eyes just flitted over the blond’s features, lips parted as if he had something to say. “Okay,” he breathed. “We should get to work. You can sit down, you know.” He pointed at the bed, the bright smile popping back onto his face.

Hyojong slumped onto the bed, sitting close to where Hwitaek’s desk was. “When is this due?”

“we have about a month,” Hwitaek said. He turned to his desk, flipping through their chemistry textbook. “We have to research and prove how the types of pollution in the air can affect the human body.”

“That’s stupid,” Hyojong said. “Fine, whatever. What do you want to do?”

“I was thinking of doing cigarette smoke?” He eyed the blond. “Not to offend you, or anything. We can do whatever you want.”

“You’re not offended me,” Hyojong sighed. “I don’t really smoke cigarettes, a lot of the time. Unless I’m pissed off or stressed.” Not that Hwitaek needed to know that information. “This won’t make me quit, though, so don’t try.”

Hwitaek nodded enthusiastically. “Can we make it our subject, then?” Hyojong shrugged. “Great!” He wrote it down in one of his open notebooks.

“How are we supposed to do that?” Hyojong asked. “Want me to smoke so much I die? I’ll do it.”

Hwitaek smacked Hyojong on the knee. “Don’t do that,” he laughed. When he laughed, he always rocked towards whoever was closest to him. In this case, and far too many others, it was Hyojong. “I feel like most people are going to do posters—”

“Because they’re easy,” Hyojong said. He could make a poster. It was essentially art, right?

“Right,” Hwitaek nodded. “So, I feel like we shouldn’t do one, since it’ll sort of lose its’ impact.”

_Fucking hell_. “Why does our have to be impactful?” If things kept going this way, Hyojong was going to smoke himself to death, regardless of whether it helped their project, or not. “What are we supposed to do, then? Get up in front of the class and tap dance?”

Hwitaek’s eyes got wide. “Can you tap dance?”

Hyojong sighed. “I wasn’t being serious.” Hyojong had taken a lot of dance classes when he was younger, so yes, he did know _how_ to tap dance. Would he in front of an entire class of imbeciles, and especially for Hwitaek’s benefit? Absolutely the fuck not.

“Oh. I think we should do some sort of model to show how cigarettes can affect the lungs.” Hwitaek was writing ideas in his notebook. He had messy handwriting, surprisingly. The way he wrote was organized, but his handwriting was actually a little hard to read. “We could get something to represent lungs, and fill it with cigarette.”

“I could just rip Yuto’s lungs out,” Hyojong said casually.

Hwitaek looked concerned, for a second. Then he started laughing. “ _Don’t_ ,” he laughed loudly. “We can get the same effect with craft supplies, or something.”

“Like… a sponge?”

Hwitaek looked absolutely _ecstatic_ that Hyojong had contributed. Hyojong kept in mind that he should _never_ do that again. “That’s perfect!” Hwitaek grinned. “And then I can type up the research paper with all of the statistics we find, and we can show the class.”

“Great,” Hyojong said, standing up. “I’ll be on my way, then.”

“You just got here,” Hwitaek said. He was looking up at Hyojong with those endless brown eyes. Hyojong wanted to throw up on himself for even noticing.

“Yeah, but we figured out what we needed to know, and we can just do the rest, later. We’ll start in the statistics, or whatever, another day. After I’ve smoke one thing or another.” Hyojong was getting a bit restless, the way he did when he hadn’t smoked for a minute. He was fidgety, and he didn’t want to have to focus on some science bullshit when he was like this. He’d end up boring himself to death, or destroying something.

Hwitaek was fiddling with his pen. He had pretty fingers. “You can just smoke outside,” he said.

Hyojong pursed his lips. “Nah, it’s okay. Just tell me when I have to be here next, I guess.” Or don’t. Hyojong didn’t want to have to be over here with Hwitaek at all. He didn’t like his fancy dorm, or this science project, or Hwitaek.

“Okay,” Hwitaek said slowly. Hyojong turned around to open the door to the red-haired man’s room. He took a single stop out, before Hwitaek spoke again. “Or you could let me try.”

Hyojong let go of the door handle and turned. Hwitaek looked nervous, his hands clasped in his lap. His eyes flickered around Hyojong’s face. “What?” the blond asked.

He was talking quieter than Hyojong had heard him talk, so far. His eyes were sort of wide, lips pouting out with his words. He was just watching Hyojong, from the twitch of Hyojong’s hand at his pocket, to his face, then to the rip of fabric over his thigh. Then all over again. “You said I should, right? Try weed. So, if you’d be okay with staying longer, you could let me try.”

Who was Hyojong if he refused a nice boy like Hwitaek that much?

Hyojong swallowed hard. “Alright,” he exhaled, “sure, yeah.”

Hwitaek’s eyes got wider. “Really?” He stood up from his desk chair, coming up to Hyojong. Hyojong figured that they were about the same height, for whatever reason that mattered.

“Well, yeah. I always have weed and a lighter on me. And you might as well chill out a little.”

“What do you mean?” Hwitaek asked, tilting his head to the side.

Hyojong grabbed the lighter out of his pocket, flipping it around in his hand. “Nothing,” he said quickly. Then, “you’re a little uptight.”

Hwitaek’s lips pouted. “I don’t think I’m as uptight as you think I am.” Hyojong wanted to argue. Something about Hwitaek made him really easy to argue with. It was probably the total lack of similarities he had to Hyojong.

“Do you want to try, or not?” the blond asked. He grabbed the joint from his pocket, holding it up next to the lighter.

Hwitaek nodded slowly. “I do want to.”

Hyojong flickered the lighter on, watching the flame sway. “Should we go outside, then?”

The red-haired man shook his head. “No, I don’t want to get caught. We can just do it in here.” He slid onto his bed, sitting cross-legged in the center. He looked like a cute little kid.

“Do you have water?” Hyojong asked. Hwitaek nodded, reaching for a red water bottle that sat on his desk. “Good, you’re going to need it. You’re going to cough, but don’t worry, it’s normal.” Hwitaek nodded eagerly, taking in everything Hyojong was saying. Hyojong say on the bed across from Hwitaek, their knees bumping. “I’m going to take a hit first, and the n you can try.” Hwitaek just nodded. It seemed like no matter what Hyojong was saying to him, Hwitaek just listened and took it in like he needed it to understand the blond. Hyojong put the joint between his lips, holding it steady so he could light it. He put the flame up to the tip of it, inhaling as he did. He held the smoke down, familiar with the burning sensation at his throat. He blew the smoke out, watching the way Hwitaek’s eyes were glued to his mouth.

“Do you know what shotgunning is?” Hwitaek asked.

Hyojong choked on an exhale. “Of course I do. Why?”

Hwitaek thought for a second. “No reason,” he said lightly.

Hyojong narrowed his eyes. “Here.” He handed Hwitaek the blunt. “Just put in in your mouth, and suck, I guess. Inhale." Hwitaek did, and Hyojong could immediately see the discomfort on his face from wanting to cough. “Don’t cough yet, don’t cough yet. You have to hold it in for a second.”

Hwitaek sputtered, coughing smoke out everywhere. Hyojong handed him the water bottle, and he chugged it down. “Sorry,” he coughed.

“It’s fine,” Hyojong said. He took the joint from Hwitaek, inhaling more smoke.

“How do you handle it?” Hwitaek asked curiously.

Hyojong blew smoke out of his nose. “Used to it. I like the burn.”

Hwitaek nodded. “Maybe you _should_ shotgun me,” he said.

Hyojong almost dropped the joint. His head snapped to look at the other man. “ _What_? Do _you_ know what shotgunning is?” Jesus Christ. If Hwitaek kept surprising Hyojong like this, he was going to choke to death from getting so startled so often.

Hwitaek crossed his arms over his chest. “Yes, I do. I’m just saying, it might help, since I’ve never done it before.”

Hyojong inhaled smoke through his mouth, exhaled through his nose. Hwitaek was either really fucking clueless, or really fucking crazy. He _did_ allegedly think Hyojong was hot, so shotgunning wasn’t _totally_ preposterous. It was just… a lot. It was making Hyojong’s imagination run wild, which was never for the better. “I don’t think we’re close enough to do that, dude,” Hyojong said. It would be hot, that was for sure. Hwitaek was pretty, and willing, but he was the class president—Hyojong had to keep reminding himself of that. They didn’t really know each other, Hyojong just thought Hwitaek was obnoxious, and they were both supposedly attracted to each other, physically. They weren’t friends. They were hardly even acquaintances.

Hwitaek put his hand on Hyojong’s knee, fingers brushing where Hyojong’s skin peeked through his jeans. “Sure we are,” Hwitaek grinned. “You want me to get high, right? We can at least try it.”

The sane part of Hyojong wanted to tell Hwitaek to pop an edible, or better yet, just smoke like everyone else did. The sane part of Hyojong wanted to get the hell out of Hwitaek’s fancy dorm, because after all, Hwitaek was annoying. The sane part of Hyojong was telling him to be rational, for once, and just make a fucking decision that didn’t end up with him hating himself. Unfortunately, the sane part of Hyojong was nowhere to be found. _Damn him_. “Alright.” He was probably going to regret this, later. “You know what to do, right?” he was _definitely_ going to regret this, later. “When I blow smoke, just inhale. Simple enough. Make sure to hold it down, this time.” What the hell was Hyojong doing?

“Okay,” Hwitaek said, nodding his head enthusiastically. He scooted closer to Hyojong. He put his knees on Hyojong’s knees to stabilize himself as he leaned forward. Hyojong wished it wasn’t as much of a distraction as he was finding it to be. “Simple enough.”

“Don’t tell Wooseok, Yuto, or Shinwon we did this. And don’t tell Kino, he’ll just tell Yuto,” the blond said. “I’ll never hear the end of it.” He didn’t want to see the looks they’d give him.. He could already imagine Shinwon’s shitty expression.

“I won’t,” Hwitaek promised.

Hyojong put the joint to his lips, filling his lungs with smoke until he physically couldn’t inhale any more. He grabbed Hwitaek’s shirt collar, swiftly pulling him forward. Hwitaek’s lips were parted prettily, and Hyojong had to stop himself from thinking how pretty those lips would look somewhere less decent. Hyojong leaned forward, lips hovering close to the other’s. He gently blew smoke forward, watching Hwitaek breathe most of it in.

Hyojong sat up to look at Hwitaek. God, he was pretty. Smoke was swirling around his face, hair a faded shade of maroon, and slightly messy. “Hold it down,” Hyojong instructed. He pat Hwitaek’s knee, watching him nod. Hyojong took another hit, more smoke filling the room as he spoke. “Okay, you can blow, now.”

 

Hwitaek’s pink lips parted, smoke flowing out between them. He coughed a few times, but smiled at Hyojong. “That wasn’t too bad,” he said.

Hyojong raised an eyebrow. “No?” he asked. Hwitaek sure was full of surprises. Hyojong didn’t really know if it was good for his health, in all honesty. “That’s because it’s just second-hand smoke.” He snorted. “Maybe we should put _that_ in our project.”

Hwitaek looked surprised, grinning crazily at Hyojong. “That’s a great idea,” he gushed. He leaned over Hyojong’s sitting form to scribble the idea down in his notebook. Absolutely ridiculous.

The blond held the blunt out to Hwitaek, again. “Wanna try again?” he asked. He was already starting to feel a very slight buzz behind his eyes. That was some strong fucking weed.

Hwitaek looked at the blunt for a moment and shrugged. “Sure.” His fingertips brushed against Hyojong’s as he took it, and Hyojong wasn’t sure why he noticed it. He put the joint between his lips, and inhaled. Hyojong felt very much similar to the way he did when he’d watching Hwitaek drink soju, the other day. Luckily, he did not pop a boner, this time. But he wouldn’t have been surprised if he had. For someone who acted as peppy as Hwitaek did, Hwitaek was _erotic_. Downright. The plumpness of his lips, the irritating sparkle of his eyes. The way his skin lowed smooth and dewy, and they way he looked up through his eyelashes, at Hyojong. Hwitaek was oblivious to it, of course, but he was undeniably, frustratingly erotic.

Hwitaek coughed out smoke. “Sorry,” he said, “I really don’t like that.” He handed the joint back to Hyojong.

Hyojong shrugged. _Why_ were Hwitaek’s lips always pouty? Did he not have control of his sexiness? If that was the case, why the fuck not? “At least you kept it down, this time.” Hyojong clearly had a few issues concerning Hwitaek’s appearance.

“How long will it take?” the red-haired man asked.

“What?” Hyojong asked. “To get high? I don’t know, it won’t take that long, especially since you’re a virgin.”

“I’m sorry?”

Hyojong cleared his throat. Fuck. “Weed virgin,” he said quickly. Probably a virgin overall, actually. The thought made the tips of his ears feel hot. “Since you’ve never smoke before, it’ll hit you pretty hard. It’s Wooseok’s weed, so it’s strong. It’s already kind of hitting me, but I also didn’t cough it up.” He smiled at Hwitaek, a little.

Hwitaek smiled back, five times as wide. “Hey, I tried,” he pouted. “And I didn’t cough it up the second time.”

Ah, the shotgunning. “Fair enough,” Hyojong said. He knew he was getting high, because it felt like it was so long ago. “I’m surprised you tried it at all.” Pretty, model student Hwitaek, smoking a blunt and shotgunning some delinquent of a dude. The concept was hot, that was for sure.

“You told me to,” Hwitaek shrugged simply.

“Don’t push it on me,” Hyojong said. “Just because I say something, doesn’t mean you have to do it.” He’d actually recommend _not_ doing whatever it was Hyojong said to do. He had an active imagination, and an odd sense of humour. If he told someone to do something, it was probably best to avoid doing such.

Hwitaek shrugged. He was looking up at Hyojong, the way he did, through his annoyingly long eyelashes. “I like doing what you tell me to do.”

Smoke filled Hyojong’s lungs, and he raised his eyebrows. He was feeling a bit hot under his shirt collar. Wonder why. “Yeah?” Hwitaek nodded. “Even if I tell you to hit this again?” He waved the blunt in the air. Hwitaek was a good kid. His lips looked rather appealing, delicately wrapped around a blunt. He was the perfect class president. All the more reason for Hyojong to want to watch him smoke.

“Well, sure.” Hwitaek held the blunt between two fingers, observing it. He blinked up at Hyojong, eyelashes fluttering. “Only if you shotgun me, again.” He gave a bright smile, unfitting to the way it was making Hyojong feel. Seriously, was this goody-two-shoes trying to kill him?

Was there nothing this kid was afraid of saying? He didn’t care if he was too honest with Hyojong, or if he made Hyojong choke on his own breath, or if he asked Hyojong to do something as _intimate as shotgunning him. With his mouth_ “Okay,” Hyojong stuttered, “sure, okay, yeah. Whatever.” Hyojong really needed to quit spending time with this guy. They were getting too familiar with each other already, and Hyojong was getting all mixed up. They weren’t _friends_. They were just partners for a stupid class. Hyojong thought Hwitaek was hot. Hwitaek thought Hyojong was hot, according to their friends. Hyojong _really_ thought Hwitaek would look good getting fucked. That was all. Just classmates. There was no reason for Hyojong to get so worked up, like he kept doing.

Hwitaek laughed. He pointedly put the joint up to his lips, looking at Hyojong while he inhaled. Hyojong rolled his eyes and chuckled. Weird kid. Hwitaek looked like he was going to cough, distorted. He shook his head down at the blond, earning another laugh Hyojong didn’t remember giving. He narrowed his eyes, body slightly shaking with a cough, but he kept the smoke down. When he blew the smoke out into Hyojong’s face, he did it with a loud laugh. “Okay,” he grinned, handing the blunt to Hyojong.

Good god, Hwitaek was going to kill him before he even got out of this place. Hyojong straightened up, shifting close to the red-haired man. “How many times am I going to have to do this tonight?” he sighed dramatically. Not that getting this close to an attractive man was realistically going to kill him. It just made the room feel too hot. It made Hyojong’s skin heat up.

Hands came up to balance on Hyojong’s thighs, Hwitaek moving in far closer than necessary. He was grinning a cheeky grin, creased forming at the corners of his eyes. “I don’t know yet,” he said. His skin was similar to the colour of honey. Hyojong wanted to touch it, to see if it was as warm as it looked. “We’ll just have to see.”

Hyojong wanted to dip his hands into that honey skin of Hwitaek’s. He shook his head, smiling at how ridiculous the other man was. “You’re going to be _so_ high,” he commented. Hwitaek’s eyes already looked a little narrower than they usually were.

“You should be proud,” Hwitaek grinned. He kept coming closer to Hyojong, until his knees were practically on top of the blond’s. He looked so excited, Hyojong almost couldn’t stand it. He also _almost_ found it endearing.

The joint was between his lips, trying not to smile. He shook his head, watching the other man. He inhaled as much smoke as he could before his lungs felt like they were going to burst. He motioned for Hwitaek to come forward. He did, leaning forward enough to put pressure on Hyojong’s thighs. Hyojong didn’t understand why his hands had to be so high up, but it was whatever. He’d just try not to think about it. Hyojong blew smoke into Hwitaek’s parted lips. His eyes were cast downwards, watching the smoke-filled space between them. Hwitaek was focused on inhaling all of the smoke. Too focused, perhaps. So focused, that he didn’t realize that he kept leaning forward, and neither did Hyojong.

It was the slightest bump of their lower lips, but Hyojong was moving away so quickly, he thought he was going to get whiplash. “Sorry,” he blurted, even though it wasn’t his fault. Hwitaek should have been paying more attention.

Hwitaek shook his head quickly. “It’s okay, I didn’t realize—I didn’t mean to… Sorry.” The tips of his ears were red.

Was Hwitaek wearing lip balm? Oh god, of course he was. Hyojong was really unhappy that he’d even noticed. He was unhappy that there was even a _circumstance_ for him to find that out. Hwitaek and his stupid lip balm. No wonder his lips always looked so good. It pissed Hyojong off more than it turned him on, and that was saying a lot

“Don’t worry about it,” Hyojong shrugged. He really wanted to leave. Here he was, hanging out with the class president. _By choice_. Something had been seriously wrong with Hyojong, lately. He should have left, when he had the chance. Now, Hwitaek was getting high for the first time, and Hyojong couldn’t just leave him alone, like that. Even Hyojong wasn’t that shitty. “Are you feeling it, yet?” he asked, trying to change the subject as fast as humanly possible. He was feeling it. He was definitely high. Hwitaek’s skin looked sticky, like honey. Smooth. Warm. He wanted to put his fingers on it. His mouth, maybe. Taste the sticky sweetness. Yeah, he was high.

Hwitaek looked at Hyojong for a moment, a slow grin spreading across his face. “I don’t know,” he laughed loudly, leaning into Hyojong’s lap. He sat back up to look at the other man, his eyes squinty and tinted pink.

Hyojong raised his eyebrows. “You’re high.”

Hwitaek burst out laughing. “What?” he giggled. “I’m high?” His smile was so wide, and it made the apples of his cheeks look especially round. His laugh honestly sounded more like a cackle, and it made Hyojong smile. He was such an odd person, especially for being such a model student. He started laughing again, his body leaning forward so much, his head was basically in Hyojong’s lap.

There wasn’t anything for Hyojong to do besides watch. He pat Hwitaek on the head. “Yeah, you’re high.” Christ, Hwitaek’s hair was soft. Really silky, feathery soft. Hyojong didn’t realize he’d kept his hand on Hwitaek’s head, until the other man calmed down and stopped laughing so much. Hyojong snapped his hand away from the other man’s head. Hwitaek sat up to look at him, eyes glued to the blond’s face. “Your hair’s soft,” Hyojong said, ever so intelligently.

Just when Hwitaek was starting to piss him off the most, he did something equally as charming, and Hyojong would completely forget about why he was so angry. He hated the way it worked, but there was something small about Hwitaek that made him seem cute, instead of just annoying. Maybe it was the weed.

“You’re high,” Hwitaek chortled. He put both of his hands on Hyojong’s knees. Hyojong would have moved him, except he wasn’t sure Hwitaek was aware that he was even touching Hyojong.

There was a small smile on Hyojong’s lips. “Well, no shit,” he said. Hwitaek just kept looking at him, eyes unmoving from his face. His smile kept getting wider and wider, until he couldn’t physically smoke any wider—at least, Hyojong hoped that was the case. His hands were slowly sliding higher and higher up Hyojong’s legs, brushing bare skin and ripped fabric. “What?” he asked, referring to Hwitaek’s star struck expression.

Fingers drummed on the tops of Hyojong’s thighs. “I don’t know,” Hwitaek said. “I feel _really_ good.” He looked down to where his hands were on Hyojong’s thighs, and pulled them back, just a little. He drummed his fingers more, watching the movement. “It feels good to touch things.”

Hyojong moved to put his hands over Hwitaek’s, not as an affectionate gesture, just for the sake of touching something. Hwitaek was right. It felt really good to touch anything when high, and touching someone else was the best. It had to do with how warm they were, and how comfortable they, and everything else felt. Like Hyojong could lay down, and sink into whatever was beneath him. “Aren’t you glad you tried something new?” he asked. Hwitaek looked good, right now. Since his eyes were so narrowed, it gave his face a really sexy, half-lidded effect. His round cheeks were tinted a pleasant shade of light pink, similar to the whites of his eyes. There was just something about him, at this exact moment, that made him look really damned good. If only he was the exact opposite of the way he actually was.

“What?” Hwitaek asked, registering what the blond said. “Oh, yeah. I see why you like it, so much.” He kept squeezing the center of Hyojong’s thigh, in no particular pattern, and Hyojong was sure he didn’t realize he was doing it.

Hyojong nodded, shaking some of his hair out of his face. “that, and I start getting really shaky and fidgety, if I don’t.” And Hyojong didn’t have to explain himself to this kid.

“Really?” Hwitaek asked. “That sounds annoying.”

It was, “It’s whatever,” Hyojong shrugged. A decent portion of him wanted to contradict every single thing Hwitaek had to say, just due to the type of person both of them were. “You get used to it.”

Hwitaek nodded, as if he understood what Hyojong was talking about. He stretched his neck to the sides. “I just want to lay down,” he said, flopping back onto the bed. His hands slid off of Hyojong’s legs, leaving a tingling sensation on his skin.

“If you fall asleep, I’m leaving,” Hyojong said. He puffed smoke out through his nose, only so he could keep inhaling it. He sort of wanted to lay down, too, but he wouldn’t. That’d be far to weird to do, at the class president’s place. He couldn’t even imagine doing something like that. He’d have to be out of his fucking mind.

Hwitaek waved a hand at him. “I won’t fall asleep, don’t worry.” He ran a hand through his hair, eyes staring up at the ceiling. He had pretty cheekbones. Hyojong sure thought about how pretty he was, a lot. It wasn’t preferable. But Hwitaek was pretty. Annoying as fuck, sure. Hardly even tolerable, of course. But pretty as all hell. Pretty, and often way sexier then he should have been. In a hot way, but also in a difficultly innocent way. And it really frustrated Hyojong. He dind’t want to think _any_ of those things about Hwitaek, but it was hard _not_ to, when he looked like that. “Hey, will you shotgun me, again?”

And it was hard to _stop_ thinking about it, when he kept fucking _asking Hyojong to do that_. “Really?” Hyojong asked.

“Yes, really.”

Hyojong sighed. “I guess.” He couldn’t tell how long it had been since the last time. When he was high, it was like time didn’t exist at all. It was either, like, thirteen hours ago, or just five seconds ago. He couldn’t tell. He smacked Hwitaek on the knee. “But sit up, I’m not doing that to you when you’re laying down.”

Hwitaek frowned, a little. “I just laid down,” he huffed, beckoning the blond with a hand.

What was Hyojong getting himself into? He sighed again, this time with an eyeroll. “Fine.” He put the blunt up to his lips, inhaling more smoke. Hwitaek was really pushing his luck with Hyojong. Why he thought they were all of a sudden close friends, Hyojong did not understand. They hardly knew each other. And Hyojong wasn’t exactly nice to the kid, either.

Hyojong leaned over the red-haired man’s body, an elbow pressed close to where Hwitaek was laying, holding him up. He was trying to touch Hwitaek was little as possible, but it was hard to do, seeing as he was essentially lying on top of him. Their legs bumped into the other’s, their top halves practically flush. Hyojong hovered his face close to Hwitaek’s, really, _really_ trying to not let his nether regions show how turned on he was becoming. He swore to god, if he got a boner, he’d move to a different country.

He blew smoke between Hwitaek’s plump, _eager_ , parted lips. If they so much as touched lips again, Hyojong was out. Out of there before Hwitaek even noticed that he’d left. That was far past the line of things Hyojong could handle.

To better stabilize the blond, Hwitaek put his hand on the side of Hyojong’s neck, where his tattoo was. His fingertips were warm, and they felt good, and—was Hyojong fucking _blushing_? What the hell type of teenage romance bullshit was this? Hyojong didn’t think he’d even blushed a day in his god damned life. It was probably just hot in the room, or something. Now that he mentioned it, it was sort of warm. And Hyojong was wearing a lot of layers, including a white bomber coat. It was no wonder his face felt red. He was dressed for the damned winter.

Hyojong sat up. “That’s the last time.” He couldn’t handle getting that close to the class president, again. Not to mention the tingle on Hyojong’s skin, wherever he and Hwitaek had made contact. It was embarrassing, to say the least, but he couldn’t help it.

Hyojong shrugged his coat off, setting in on the bed next to him. He looked at Hwitaek, only to see the other man’s gaze travelling over his torso, and arms, and everywhere his narrow eyes could reach. Oh, yeah. Hwitaek thought he was hot. And Hyojong’s shirt was form-fitting. Hwitaek was checking him out. What a boost to Hyojong’s ego, that was.

“Hmm?” Hwitaek slowly pulled his eyes back up to Hyojong’s face. “What’d you say?” He definitely knew he’d been caught checking Hyojong’ out, if the guilty expression on his face was anything to go by.

Hyojong snorted. He was fairly certain he was smirking, but he couldn’t be sure, since he couldn’t quite feel his face. “I said I’m not shotgunning you, again.” And Hwitaek wasn’t too bad himself. In terms of the way his body looked. Especially in t-shirts, Hyojong could really see the curve of his bicep, and the pleasant broadness of his chest and shoulders. He wasn’t incredibly ripped, or jacked, or whatever Shinwon would have called it, these days, but his body was nice. At least, Hyojong enjoyed looking at it.

Hwitaek sat up to frown at Hyojong. “What?” he pouted. “Why not?” God, it was annoying how cute he looked when he pouted. Could Hyojong never live in peace?

Hyojong scoffed. “It’s a little much, don’t you think?” he asked. Mouths were too close. Too many fingers touched Hyojong’s neck, too much contact overall. Hyojong’s thought process went absolutely batshit insane. It was much too intimate for polar opposites.

“How?” Hwitaek asked.

Hyojong rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. He chose to ignore the way Hwitaek’s eyes locked onto the swell of his biceps, as he did. “I just don’t think it’s something I should be doing to you.”

Hwitaek took the blunt from Hyojong’s fingers, before the blond even had time to stop him. “What if I do it to you?”

Well. That only aroused Hyojong a little bit. What an intriguing thought.

“I don’t know…” It maybe aroused Hyojong a little _too_ much. Seeing Hwitaek smoke was too much as it was, much less Hwitaek putting that smoke into _Hyojong’s_ mouth, with _his_ mouth.

Hwitaek wiggled closer to Hyojong. His hair was messy. “Come on,” he fussed. His lips looked delectable. “I want to try.”

Hyojong cocked his head to the side. “I don’t—”

There was a hand on Hyojong’s thigh, instantly shutting him up. “Please?”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, _fuck_. Fucking hell. Hyojong took a deep breath, sighing as he spoke. “Go for it.”

Hwitaek grinned excitedly. He scooted closer to Hyojong, one of his hands still on Hyojong’s thigh. He put the joint up to his dark pink lips, taking a long drag. He held the smoke in his mouth, and pulled Hyojong closer with a hand at the back of his neck. Hyojong could feel his own eyes go wide. He parted his lips, inhaling the smoke that Hwitaek was blowing a steady stream of. He saw Hwitaek’s eyes flicker down to look at his mouth, then back to his eyes. 

Hwitaek pulled away, and Hyojong blew smoke into his face. Hyojong wondered if this was how he was finally going to die. Hwitaek was already bringing the joint back up to his mouth. “I’m going to do it again.” He took another hit off of it, his eyes never leaving the blond’s face. Hyojong just nodded, like the bitch he was. He did not know how to handle this guy. He was a preppy, bubbly enigma. Hwitaek pulled Hyojong towards him, by the same hand at the back of his neck. Was Hyojong sweating? Hwitaek’s fingertips were gently digging into the sift skin of Hyojong’s thigh. Hyojong was sweating, he was sure of it.

The high was hitting Hyojong at full intensity, now. He felt light-headed, in the best way possible, like his whole body was floating. He was warm, and comfortable, and he physically could not stop smiling, even when Hwitaek came forward to blow smoke past his lips. The room was filled with smoke, and it smelled like weed. The smoke drifting around Hwitaek’s body and face made him look dreamlike, like he was some gorgeous, glowing force. It was a good look on him. The hand at the back of Hyojong’s neck felt _so_ nice, as did the one on his thigh. He felt like he was going to fall asleep, except he couldn’t because he was, admittedly, turned on from all of this intimacy. He just hoped his body loved and respected him enough to not get a boner in the middle of the class president’s room.

It felt like time was slowed down to a stop, and Hyojong knew it was due to the weed, and them accidentally hotboxing themselves by not opening the windown in Hwitaek’s room.

Hwitaek was soft, and he was drawing Hyojong in, and—to hell with it. Hyojong put his hand on Hwitaek’s knee. Regrettable? Sure. Did he give a flying fuck, at the moment? Not a chance. Hwitaek just moved forward, thrilled by the contact Hyojong was initiating. Hyojong almost scowled. Hyojong just wanted to touch something, because everything felt so good. Because _he_ felt good. Because Hwitaek felt even better.

Hyojong had been so enchanted by the way this high was making him feel, that he hadn’t even noticed that Hwitaek had stopped. Hyojong was fairly certain that he was holding his breath, because he definitely wasn’t breathing. There was the waxy scent of cherries, and a warm sensation in the pit of his stomach, and he didn’t know what was going on. And, _holy fucking dark gods up above_ \-- Hwitaek’s lips were touching his. He’d replaced the smoke with his own lips, and he was _fucking kissing him_.

When he came to his senses, Hyojong finally breathed, exhaling all of the smoke out of his nose. And before he knew how to react, or what the fuck he was supposed to do about it, he was kissing Hwitaek back.

If his hands had felt good, then Hwitaek’s lips were fucking mind blowing. They were soft, and warm, and wet. As was his tongue. And the cherry flavoured lip balm he was wearing was making it exceptionally easy for their lips to slide together. And it tasted good. Hwitaek tasted like cherries and smoke. And he was soft. And supple. And _hot_.

What the fuck was Hyojong doing?

He pulled away quickly, as soon he’d noticed something was wrong. He looked at Hwitaek with wide eyes. “What the fuck?” he asked. What the fuck was going on? What the fuck had been going on since the class president had forced his way into Hyojong’s previously calm, stable life?

Hwitaek’s eyes were just as wide. “Um. I—”

Hyojong grabbed Hwitaek by the back of his neck, and crashed their mouths together. He kissed him harder than before, full of tongue, and teeth, and lip. He didn’t want to be gentle with Hwitaek, anymore. Kissing him slow and softly had been nice, and well fitting to the high. But this wasn’t about being _gentle_. It was about Hwitaek constantly turning Hyojong on, until Hyojong couldn’t handle it. It was about how obnoxious Hwitaek was, and how much it genuinely irritated Hyojong. It was about how much Hyojong hated goody-two-shoes preps like Hwitaek, yet, how much he still wanted to fuck him. It was about how hot Hwitaek was, and how much Hyojong wished he wasn’t. It was about want, and anger, and the high. And that’s all there was to it.

Hyojong pulled away, noticing how red Hwitaek’s pretty mouth was. He grabbed his coat off of the bed, and stood up. He felt dizzy. “I need to get going,” he said. He moved towards the door. He sure had been making mistakes, lately. All for nothing besides his self-loathing.

Hwitaek looked shocked. Hyojong almost felt bad. “Okay,” the red-haired man said, watching Hyojong. “Should we—?”

Hyojong opened the door. “Peace out,” he said. God _damn_ him, he was so _stupid_. Kissing the class president, hanging out with the class president, getting high with the class president. It was absolute bullshit, and he’d never forgive himself for it.

He gave one, panicked glance back at Hwitaek, and walked out, the door slamming behind him.

He chose to ignore the cherry scent stuck to his lips.

And he left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please, please leave a comment telling me how you feel about these characters, this fic in general, or all the crazy things that happened in this chapter. I'd love to hear all of your feedback, and what you like about this fic, so I can try to make this the best fic it could be!
> 
> Thank you so much!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyojong and Hwitaek have... mixed feelings?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all! I'm back sooner than expected, since I love writing this series so much. All of your support from the last chapter really fueled me and encouraged me to write faster, so thank you all for that!
> 
> This chapter is a bit slow, and they don't actually interact with each other, but I hope you like it, anyway. Enjoy!!!

Hyojong was even better at avoiding situations that he had thought.

He absolutely did not wan to confront Hwitaek about _whatever_ had happened at his dorm. Even more so, he didn’t want Hwitaek to confront _him_ about it. They had kissed. Twice. To be exact, they’d been shotgunning for the majority of the day, and Hwitaek had apparently decided that it was a good idea to kiss Hyojong. It had been good. About as good as Hyojong thought a kiss could be. And then Hyojong had kissed Hwitaek by mistake, and it had been even _better_. Class president or not, Hwitaek sure knew how to kiss, and it had made Hyojong’s head spin. He had already been high, and turned on, and that just made it worse. If anything was for sure, it was that Hyojong would do just about everything to keep from talking about it.

Naturally, Hyojong had avoided Hwitaek at all costs. Hwitaek had texted him what felt like a million times, and had even gone as far as _calling_ him. The absolute _last_ thing Hyojong wanted to do was text Hwitaek about sticking his tongue down his throat, much less talk to him about it over the phone. Hyojong even went as far as smoking in an alleyway near campus, instead of his normal spot, because he _knew_ Hwitaek would try to find him there. Hyojong couldn’t care less about the stupid science project; he hadn’t gone to that class for days. Anything involving Hwitaek was a no go for him. He didn’t want to talk about it. There was nothing to talk about it. Hyojong had made a mistake by being at Hwitaek’s dorm in the first place, and then by getting him high and shotgunning him, and then by kissing him. It was a huge mistake he’d made while high, when he wasn’t thinking straight. He regretted it, absolutely. He wanted to do it again? Sure he did. But he understood that he shouldn’t have done it at all, and the only thing he’d done was make everything a lot more complicated.

Besides, he knew Hwitaek would want to talk about it. He’d want to know why Hyojong left so abruptly afterwards, why’d he’d even kissed him back, nut most importantly—and dreadfully—where it out them. Hyojong had left so quickly because he was mad at himself for everything that had happened. He’d kissed Hwitaek back because he was stupid and high, and because Hwitaek was hot and supple. And where it left them? Nowhere. Absolutely nowhere. They weren’t even friends. Just lab partners, and maybe even enemies. If Hyojong had to pick an arch nemesis, the easy choice was Hwitaek. Or Shinwon, when he lectured Hyojong about his health. But thankfully, Hyojong hadn’t made out with Shinwon. So, it left Hyojong worse off than they had been before. The kiss was nothing. They were nothing. And Hyojong didn’t think he could explain something like that to someone like Hwitaek. He just wouldn’t get it. Hyojong decided to solve that problem by not dealing with it at all. So far, Hyojong wasn’t regretting hi decision. For once.

“Are you going to ignore him forever?” Shinwon asked, eyeing the phone on Hyojong’s counter. It was vibrating, lighting up with Hwitaek’s phone number.

Hyojong shrugged. “If it goes my way.” He took a bowl of ramen out of his microwave, cursing at the temperature. They were at Hyojong’s shitty apartment, waiting for Wooseok, Yuto, and Kino to show up. They were supposed to be watching a movie that Yuto had been excited about forever. Shinwon was uncharacteristically early, only due to he and Hyojong walking over after their classes got out. The other three were on their way, now. He and Shinwon were biding their time by eating something. Hyojong was eating instant ramen, because he was a cheap and simple man. Shinwon was eating a burger, mouth full as he judged Hyojong. Shinwon was always so concerned about gaining wait because of alcohol, but all he ate was fast food. He was lucky he had such a fast metabolism, otherwise he’d blow up like a balloon.

“What even happened?” Shinwon asked between bites. “I thought you two had a class thing together.” He wiped his greasy fingers on a paper towel, so he could fix his hair.

Another small detail—Hyojong hadn’t told a single one of his friends about what happened at Hwitaek’s dorm. Not even Wooseok. He didn’t want to have to deal with them looking smug, or giving him that ‘I told you so’ look. He knew Shinwon would get a kick out of that, and Yuto would probably tease him about it. He didn’t want to think more about it than he already had. And he didn’t want to explain how he’d kissed Hwitaek life his entire life had depended on it. Besides, why would he tell his friends about something that didn’t matter?

“Nothing happened,” Hyojong lied. “I told you, I hate him.” And he did. He’d told his friends that about a hundred times. He’d nagged Wooseok for inviting him to their get-together, and to the rest of them about the general annoyance that Hwitaek was. Just because Hyojong had sucked his face until he felt like he was going to pass out, didn’t mean he didn’t feel that way.

Shinwon rolled his eyes. “Okay,” he sighed, “but you weren’t ignoring him before.”

Hyojong turned his nose up, and walked into his living room. “Well, I am now.” He sat on the couch, shoving noodles into his mouth. “He talks too much, and he’s obnoxious. He’s just annoying, and I don’t have to talk to him if I don’t want to.”

Shinwon followed Hyojong into the living room, daintily placing himself on the arm of the couch. “Fine, whatever. At least tell him you’re not interested in him like that.”

Hyojong raised his eyebrows. “Like what?”

The younger man huffed, looking at Hyojong like he was the least intelligent person on earth. “Like more than a friend.”

Hyojong nearly choked on his ramen. “Excuse me?” He wished Shinwon would just get to the fucking point. “I don’t even like him _as_ a friend.”

“’Kay, great. I don’t think he knows you don’t like him, especially in the way I think he likes you.”

Hyojong narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?” he deadpanned.

Shinwon pursed his lips. “ _I_ thought you two were flirting, and I’m sure he did, too.” He took a massive bite of his burger, pointedly glaring at Hyojong as he chewed.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Hyojong scoffed. “Me? Flirting with the class president? I’d rather saw my fucking arm off.” Hyojong would _never_ , _ever_ flirt with someone like Hwitaek.

“Dramatic,” Shinwon said, with a disapproving shake of his head. “I’m just giving you my opinion, don’t freak out about it.”

Hyojong gave a deep frown. “Your opinion is wrong, but thanks.”

Shinwon sighed defeatedly. “There’s no getting through to you, is there?”

“No.”

The dorm to Hyojong’s apartment opened up, Wooseok standing in the doorway. “Hey, Kim Hyojong.” Oh fuck, what did Hyojong do this time? Hyojong turned his head to look up at him, filling his mouth with ramen. “Quick question, have you completely lost your mind?”

Noodles were hanging out of his mouth. “Hmm?” was all he replied, cocking an eyebrow.

Wooseok walked into the apartment, Yuto and Kino following. The taller man crossed his arms over his chest. “Hui told me you kissed him.”

Hyojong wondered if there way any way for him to die, right now.

Shinwon, clearly astonished by the news, gasped loudly. His head snapped to look at Hyojong. “You—excuse me—the fuck? What?” Hyojong just sunk lower into the couch. “Are you absolutely shitting me?”

Well. Hyojong’s secret did not last as long as he had wanted it to.

“I thought you hated him?” Yuto asked, eyebrow raised. He looked down at Hyojong like he _knew_ this was going to happen, even though it was a total accident.

Hyojong groaned. “I _do_ hate him.” He did hate Hwitaek. Hwitaek was actually the embodiment of every personality trait Hyojong disliked. It was impossible to _not_ hate Hwitaek.

“Why did you kiss him, then?” Kino asked, eyebrows knit. He sat on the couch, pulling Yuto down with him, even though the couple wasn’t touching at all. It was practically mind control.

Hyojong crossed his arms, shaking his head to get the hair out of his face. Great, this was xactly what Hyojong wanted to do—thinking of Hwitaek’s dainty hands, and his warm skin, and his ridiculously skilled mouth. It wasn’t like he’d purposefully been _not_ thinking about that. “I didn’t kiss him,” Hyojong said. All if his friends sighed in relief, as if that was the best news they’d ever heard. “ _He_ kissed _me_. First.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“I just don’t understand.”

“I am too fucking old for this,” Shinwon groaned.

“I’m older than you, jackass.”

Wooseok was still standing, looming over the rest of them. Hyojong didn’t understand how this was his concern, or any of his friend’s concern, really. “How many times did you kiss?” Wooseok asked.

“It was only two times,” Hyojong snapped. Two really fucking good times. Two times that partially made Hyojong want to stay at Hwitaek’s place, so he could fuck him right on that bed, with the joint still between his fingers. Two times he was positive he’d regret for the rest of his life. “It didn’t mean anything, we were high.”

Shinwon looked distressed. “You got him high, too?”

“ _He_ wanted to,” Hyojong glared.

“He was so pure, before,” Yuto commented, ignoring Hyojong’s words. Kino nodded in agreement.

Hyojong sneered at his friends. “Fuck off.” He finished the rest of his ramen, now that it had gotten cold and gross, and set it on the coffee table.

“So,” Wooseok started, “he kissed you, and then you kissed him?”

“More or less, whatever.” Like it was the last thing they ever got to do. Like their lives depended on it. Like there was nothing in the entire world they’d rather do than suck each other’s faces. Hot and soft, yet needy and rough. It had undeniably been the best kiss of Hyojong’s life, and he hated Hwitaek for it.

“How was it?” Kino asked curiously. His innocent eyes were wide in wonder.

“Not answering that.” If he did, he’d just get a boner. And then have to explain why he got a boner. It was a bad situation for everyone involved.

“Why did you kiss him?” Yuto asked. His hand was rubbing over Kino’s thigh absentmindedly.

Hyojong swallowed hard when he remembered how nice Hwitaek’s hands had been on _his_ thighs. God, he hated himself. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Some accident,” Shinwon quipped.

“ _Fuck off_ ,” Hyojong repeated. “We were just being stupid. Everyone’s made out with someone they didn’t mean to when they were fucked up. Right?” Hyojong did a lot of stupid bullshit when he was sober, and it only got worse when he was drunk or high.

Wooseok was quick to respond. “I know I have.”

Shinwon dramatically looked off into the distance, terror on his face, as if he were reimagining something traumatizing. “Haunts me to this fucking day.”

“Oh, when you two made out?” Kino asked, motioning between Wooseok and Hyojong.

Hyojong wrinkled his nose, remembering how fucked up he’d been that night. “We are _definitely_ only friend.” Long story short, it hadn’t been good. Awful, actually. Wooseok kissed too wet for Hyojong’s liking, and Hyojong was apparently ‘too mean’ for Wooseok.

“For sure,” Wooseok agreed with a nod.

“Exactly,” Hyojong said. “We were high. That’s all it was.” Hwitaek had been high for the first time, so he didn’t know what to do. And Hyojong was _clearly_ out of his fucking mind, so he hadn’t known what he was doing, either.

“Does Hui know that?” Shinwon asked. He looked at Hyojong, and then at Wooseok.

“Doesn’t matter,” Hyojong said. If he didn’t get the message before, he certainly would when Hyojong never ever talked to him again. How nice it would be, to never see or speak to that loud, preppy redhead again.

“ _No_ ,” Wooseok said, giving Hyojong a look. “He _doesn’t_ know that. All Hui knows is that he and Hyojong sucked mad face, and then Hyojong left.”

“Like an asshole,” Yuto added.

Hyojong sniffed in annoyance. “That’s all he needs to know. That’s all that happened.” They did, in fact, suck ‘mad face.’ There was really no better term for it. But then Hyojong got a fucking grip, and remembered that it was the class president’s face that he’d been sucking, so he’d gotten the hell out of there before he could go any further. “I don’t know why it’s anything to you, anyway.”

“Because you’re our friend, and Hui is our friend, and we want to make sure everything is okay.” Yuto set his feet on the coffee table, leaning back into the couch. Kino was beaming up at him like he’d just spread the word of god.

“Everything is fine,” Hyojong said. He just wanted his friends to stop dwelling on it. He’d gone through extravagant measures to not have to think about how own, stupid mistake. “Are we going to watch this anime bullshit, or not?”

Yuto replied with a soft, defensive, “hey.”

“Well,” Shinwon said, with a smack of his lips. “I just texted Yanan.”

“Oh, good,” Wooseok sighed nervously.

Shinwon waved a hand at the taller man. “Not about you, quit whining. _Apparently_ they didn’t just kiss.”

“What’d you do?” Wooseok asked, looking distressed.

“Did you sleep with him?” Kino asked.

“Christ, dude, you can only corrupt someone so much,” Yuto said.

“I didn’t have sex with him,” Hyojong snapped, rolling his eyes. “What do you take me for? Don’t answer that.”

Shinwon smiled proudly. “Apparently, they shotgunned, like, the whole time.” He was very obviously pleased with the information he’d accumulated. Hyojong wanted to punch him.

“I just wanted to get him high,” Hyojong said. The fact that Hwitaek went around telling people, more specifically Yanaan, really threw him off. Anyway, the whole point of him being around Hwitaek at all was to get him to stop being such a goody-two-shoes. He would have done anything to make Hwitaek less of a boring prep. “It wasn’t sexual.” Except, it had beem. Not on purpose, but it had made Hyojong hot under the collar. It was just a bit too intimate for Hyojong to _not_ get turned on.

“No wonder he kissed you,” Kino said, leaning his cheek on his boyfriend’s shoulder. “Did you shotgun him a lot?”

Hyojong crossed his arms over his chest guiltily. “Maybe,” he huffed. “I don’t know how many times.” Too many. “He shotgunned me a few times, too.”

“It’s hot,” Wooseok admitted, shrugging.

“It’s whatever,” Hyojong said. Mistakes were made. He’d like to forget them, now. “Can we watch this fucking movie, or not?”

“Let’s watch it,” Yuto said, excitedly clapping his hands. Hyojong grabbed the remote off of the coffee table, clicking the television on.

Shinwon shifted to look at the television. “I still think you should talk to him.”

“I refuse.”

“Let’s watch this. I’m so excited it came out,” Yuto said. He and Kino were getting comfortable on the couch, tangled up in each other. Kino was sitting on the taller man’s lap, leaning his head back against him. Yuto was doing everything in his power to keep his eyes on the screen, while also being affectionate towards his boyfriend.

Wooseok finally sat down on the couch. “I think you should talk to him, too. Hui is a good kid, and he wants to be your friend.” He flicked his hair out of his eyes, looking at Hyojong. “Try to be decent about it.”

Hyojong still didn’t understand how his nonexistent situation with Hwitaek had anything to do with his friends. “I don’t _want_ to be his friend. I don’t like him.” How many fucking times did he have to tell them that?

Shinwon snorted. “That’s why you stuck your tongue down his throat, right?”

Hyojong gave a clipped laugh. “Shinwon, you really wanna tussle today, don’t you?” he asked.

“I don’t ever want to ‘tussle’ with anyone,” Shinwon laughed.

“Guys, can we please watch the movie?” Yuto pleaded.

Wooseok sighed, ignoring his best friend’s words. “Be nice to Hui, Hyojong.”

“Don’t wanna.

“Guys,” Yuto sighed.

“What did Hui ever do to you?” Shinwon asked.

Hyojong rolled his eyes. As if it wasn’t obvious. “Tried to be my friend.”

“Guys.”

Wooseok sighed again. “That isn’t a crime—"

“Should be,” Hyojong said. Really, why did that prep want to be _his_ friend? They were total opposites.

“For fuck’s sake, guys, can we watch the fucking movie?”

“Fine, fine.”

 

Hwitaek liked Hyojong. Sure he did. He was a little confused by Hyojong, of course, but Hyojong was a good person to be friend with. Hyojong was funny, and nice, on a very odd sort of way. He acted like Hwitaek was fragile, and he was afraid to break him. He knew he and Hyojong had only been friends for a very short time, but he was glad they were.

Hwitaek also wasn’t really sure if he could refer to Hyojong as his friend, after everything that had happened. The intention was for Hyojong to come over to help work on the science project. Hwitaek hadn’t been _planning_ on doing anything crazy; he just wanted to study. But then Hyojong had tried to leave right off the bat, so Hwitaek had agreed to try weed, to get Hyojong to stay longer. Maybe that was when Hwitaek had subconsciously decided to do something crazy.

Regularly, he would have never agreed to try weed, but he wanted Hyojong to stay longer. He liked being around Hyojong, and looking at Hyojong. And there was something about Hyojong that made Hwitaek feel absolutely crazy. He had a certain edge to him that made Hwitaek want to do _literally_ everything Hyojong told him to do. He was experienced in a number of things, and undeniably cool, and… _hot_. Hyojong was _so_ hot. When he’d accidentally texted Yuto that he thought Hyojong was ‘really really spicy hot’ he hadn’t been lying. In fact, that was an understatement. Everything about Hyojong made him seem all the more hot, from his mean-looking smile, to the way he looked when he exhaled smoke, to the way his tight-fitted shirt fit his muscular body. When he’d taken his coat off at Hwitaek’s dorm, Hwitaek thought he was going to ascend to a higher dimension. Hyojong’s biceps were surprisingly large, and his pectoral muscles were prominent. His body was _hot_ , there was no better way to put it. Hyojong was hot in every conceivable way, and it made it really hard for Hwitaek to behave the way he should have.

As soon as Hwitaek had agreed to trying weed, he’d blabbed about shotgunning. He knew what it was from his friend, Hongseok, telling him what it was, when Yuto and Kino had done it when they were all hanging out. Right away, it’d been appealing to Hwitaek, for whatever reason, and somehow, through whatever hidden powers Hwitaek had, he’d gotten Hyojong to agree to doing it to him. He’d liked seeing Kino and Yuto do it. But when Hyojong did it to him… oh, lord. Hwitaek liked it, to say the least. It was hot, and edgy, and intimate. With the high, and Hyojong’s face so close to his, he felt like he was floating. Being high had made him feel really pleasant. It just made Hyojong more appealing. Hwitaek was drawn to Hyojong by such an unstoppable force, he didn’t understand it.

For some reason, Hwitaek had gotten it in his head that kissing Hyojong would be a grand idea. Hyojong had just looked so good, and the high made everything all the better. So, Hwitaek kissed him. It had been incredible. Hyojong’s lips were surprisingly soft, and he’d tasted like smoke. Hwitaek didn’t even know a kiss _could_ be that good. The second kiss had been even better. Mind blowing. That’s when Hyojong took charge, and pulled Hwitaek to him, and kissed Hwitaek like he’d never been kissed before He could feel the slight scrape of Hyojong’s stubble on his skin, and taste his tongue. Hyojong kissed Hwitaek hard and rough, like he _wanted_ to break him. Hwitaek _loved_ it.

And then Hyojong had left. Hwitaek wasn’t really sure why. But now he was ignoring Hwitaek’s texts and calls. If he’d made Hyojong unhappy, he wanted to apologize. If Hyojong never wanted to kiss him again, Hwitaek wanted to establish that. If he did… he wanted to establish that even more.

“Still no luck?” a voice asked, as soon as Hwitaek closed the door behind him. He turned around to see his roommate and best friend, Jo Jinho sitting on the couch.

Hwitaek sighed, throwing his backpack on the couch. “Nope. He still wasn’t in class.” Hyojong hadn’t been to their chemistry class since he’d gone to Hwitaek’s dorm. Hwitaek couldn’t be sure that Hyojong was avoiding him, but it sure made sense.

Jinho shook his head. “I still can’t believe you tried weed.”

Hwitaek shrugged nonchalantly. “What can I say? I’m one of the cool kids.” He winked obnoxiously, snorting at himself.

Hwitaek’s other roommate, Yeo Changgu, entered the room. He sat on the couch next to Jinho, looking up at Hwitaek. “Are you, now?”

Jinho raised his eyebrows. “Making out with a delinquent does not equal coolness,” he laughed.

“Ouch,” Hwitaek chortled. “That’s not what I was referring to.” He looked through the refrigerator for a moment, before deciding that nothing looked good. “Can we go out to eat?” he asked hopefully.

“I could eat,” Hongseok said, closing the front door behind him.

“You can always eat,” Jinho snorted.

“What? I’m hungry.”

Changgu smiled up at Hwitaek, the way he always did. “Have you tried going to his house?” He looked hopeful, always doing his best to help the older man out.

Hwitaek shook his head. “It’s no big deal. I just want to apologize,” he said. “I don’t know where he lives, anyway.” It’s not like he and Hyojong had really gotten to know each other before Hwitaek made out with him.

“Just ask Yananie,” Jinho said. Hongseok was squeezing him half to death, but Jinho didn’t look unhappy about it. “I’m sure Wooseok would tell him.”

“No, it’s okay,” Hwitaek said. He didn’t want to bother Hyojong more than he already had. “He’ll come to class eventually. Probably.”

Even if he didn’t, that was fine. Hyojong couldn’t avoid Hwitaek forever. Probably. Hwitaek would see him eventually, and he’d apologize for making the blond uncomfortable. Really, Hwitaek just wanted to understand what was going on in Hyojong’s head. He wasn’t easy to read, or open with his feelings, like Hwitaek was used to. All of Hwitaek’s friends, especially Changgu, were very obvious with every single emotion they were feeling, at all times. Hwitaek _never_ knew what Hyojong was thinking or feeling.

“I can’t believe you like that guy,” Hongseok said, throwing the comment over his shoulder as he coddled his the older man with more attention.

Hwitaek shrugged. “I don’t like him,” he muttered. He didn’t like Hyojong like that, he hardly knew him. He just thought Hyojong was funny, and sweet, and oddly charismatic, and more unique then anyone he’d ever met, and hotter than the sun itself. Sure, he wanted to kiss Hyojong again. Sure, he could have looked at him all day, if the blond had let him. Sure, he wanted to feel how soft his hair was, and listen to his soothing voice until he fell asleep, content and relaxed. He thought Hyojong was a really wonderful person, with whim he’d like to spend a lot more time with. It was nothing.

Hwitaek didn’t like Hyojong.

Probably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually kind of hate this chapter, but I felt like it was necessary. Please, please, please leave a comment, telling me if you disliked it, liked it, or what you think about this series overall! All comments are appreciated, and I will respond as soon as I can!
> 
> Thank you!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyojong has mixed feelings, as always. Hwitaek, also, has mixed feelings. They move on from there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe how quickly I wrote this chapter, but I am so so excited for this story to really get moving. Thank you for all of your love and support in the comments, it really keeps me going and motivates me to write more for you all!
> 
> Enjoy!

Unfortunately, Hyojong could not fail his stupid chemistry class. No matter how much he wanted to. If he failed, it’d just be another class he’d have to pay for, and he’d have to retake it, with a fresh batch of new idiot classmates. It might have been worth it, to not have to see Hwitaek, but he really couldn’t afford to pay for another class. Attendance was a fairly hefty part of their grade, so if he didn’t start showing up soon, there was no way he was going to be able to finish the course with a passing grade.

He was going to show up for the class late, so there was no way for Hwitaek to try to talk to him or sit by him. As soon was the class was out, Hyojong would be out of the room, as far away from Hwitaek as he could possibly get. He’d be in and out of there before Hwitaek could even realize it. It was simple. If everything went exactly according to plan, Hyojong would have exactly zero problems. And he’d never have the awkward talk with Hwitaek about sucking each other’s faces. 

“Day six hundred of Hyojong being a little bitch,” Shinwon droned on, looking completely exhausted by the blond. “He thinks college is only slightly more important than avoiding some guy he slobbered on.”

They were walking across campus, both late to their classes. Hyojong had explained his entire plan to the younger man, much to his regret. “Why am I still friends with you?” he laughed, threatening to hit Shinwon with his skateboard.

“I’m cute and loveable,” Shinwon responded without hesitation.

Hyojong snorted. “Right.” He set his skateboard down and got on, snickering as he left Shinwon behind him. He watched Shinwon from afar, trying to count how many times Shinwon threw him the middle finger, and eventually failing. He could hear the other man cursing at him, and decided to wait for him. He stood in place, skateboard in hand, watching Shinwon take his sweet time to catch up with him. “Hurry the fuck up,” he said. He crossed his arms, laughing at the curses Shinwon threw his way.

“I didn’t realize you were in such a hurry,” the brunet snipped, finally catching up to Hyojong.

Hyojong started walking again, rolling his eyes at his friend. “I’m not, but I have to actually show up to the fucking class.”

“That’s new,” Shinwon said dully.

Hyojong narrowed his eyes. “You’re not allowed to walk with me, anymore,” he said, voice defeatedly monotone.

“You think I’m walking with you?” Shinwon mocked. “Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart. We just _happen_ to both have classes on the east side of campus.” He gave Hyojong a shitty smile.

Hyojong pouted. “I miss Wooseok.”

“Fuck off.”

“Done,” Hyojong said, opening the door to the campus building. “You coming over, tonight?”

Shinwon let the door loudly swing shut behind him, tapping a shiny shoe on the floor. “Depends on if you’re all drinking tonight.”

“Will that really alter your answer?” Hyojong asked skeptically, frowning at the younger man. Shinwon had been around the other four of them while they were drunk too many times to be affected by it, at this point.

“No.”

“Great, because we’re getting fucked up.” As always on a Friday night, Hyojong’s goal was to get so crossfaded, he didn’t even remember his own name.

“See you then.” Shinwon waved him off, walking towards his classroom.

So, Hyojong went to class. He sat at the very back, opposite of where Hwitaek was placed at the front. He set his board right by the door, so he could grab it and jet as soon as then class was dismissed. As soon as the door eased shut, Hwitaek’s red little head turned so he could look around the room. Hyojong tried to slouch into his chair, to make himself as small and unnoticeable as possible. He looked down at his desk like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. Apparently, the entire universe was against Hyojong, because right the, Hwitaek look at Hyojong. Hyojong could barely see him out of his peripheral vision, but he could see the way Hwitaek’s face lit up. It was hard to miss.

Hyojong hated himself. He really did. He hated himself because as soon as he looked up at Hwitaek, his mind started racing. Hwitaek was still pretty. Yah, Hyojong hated himself, but that was the way it was. Hwitaek’s skin was smooth, and his eyes were bright, and his lips were plump, and never chapped. He was pretty, and cute, and Hyojong could remember how intoxicating it had been to kiss him. And _this_ was the exact fucking reason Hyojong didn’t want to see Hwitaek. Hyojong was a dumb idiot who couldn’t metaphorically keep it in his pants.

Hyojong just tried to keep his eyes off of Hwitaek, and pretended to listen to whatever bullshit lecture his professor was giving. He couldn’t even pay attention to the class, the one fucking time he went to it. Mostly because he was so concerned with getting out of that classroom before Hwitaek could utter one single word to him. Also, because he really was distracted with how good looking Hwitaek was, even though he was just taking notes in his stupid notebook. Hyojong had said it a hundred times, and he’d keep saying it: he didn’t like Hwitaek. Hyojong was the type of person to enjoy not following rules, and hate when people conformed to whatever was given to them. Hwitaek _was_ the type of person who conformed, and also the type of person that all preppy kids with rich parents wanted to conform _to_. Hyojong didn’t like preppy people, or people who thought the whole world was just fine and fucking dandy, just because they always got good grades and never had issues. Hyojong thought that entire, peppy mindset Hwitaek had was bullshit, because really, people were more than just sunshine and rainbows, and he didn’t know why Hwitaek had to act like that was _all_ he was. Hyojong didn’t like people who were model students, because all they did was kiss ass, and Hyojong thought it shouldn’t have been that easy to succeed in some stupid, bullshit university, yet that’s all those goody-two-shoes did.

Hyojong wanted to change every single thing about Hwitaek. Ideally, Hwitaek could turn into a person opposite of what he actually was now, and then he’d be tolerable, and Hyojong would feel a lot more at ease for wanting to fuck his brains out. Right now, the single _only_ reason Hyojong wanted to do anything of that sort to Hwitaek, was to get him to break out of that model student shell he’d probably been living in for his entire life. He just wanted to corrupt Hwitaek. Somehow, that had trickled over into Hyojong wanting to fuck Hwitaek _all the time_ , but whatever. He just wanted Hwitaek to stop being so preppy and perfect, and if there was any way to do that, it was by dicking him down.

If things had been that easy, Hyojong _might_ have actually done it, by now. He was sure he could get Hwitaek to sleep with him—Hwitaek had been the one all over him at his dorm, after all. But Hyojong knew it wouldn’t be that easy. Similar to the regrettable kiss, Hwitaek would _absolutely_ want to talk about it, and Hyojong wasn’t entirely sure he was mentally strong enough to go through something like that. That was the reason he’d avoided Hwitaek for so long, after all.

Luckily, the fifty minutes of class was passing quickly. Hyojong was turning to look at the clock approximately every three minutes. Fucking hell, Hyojong wanted to smoke. Weed, cigarettes, he didn’t care. He hadn’t gotten high since the morning before his classes started, and that was becoming very obvious to him. He sort of had a headache, and he was tired in the way he always was when he came down from a high.

Hyojong found himself wondering what it’d be like to sleep with Hwitaek. He hadn’t been thinking about it on purpose, his mind had just wandered, and it was completely out of his control, now. Damn his imagination. But he wondered if Hwitaek was a virgin. He’d assume that he was, due to his goody-two-shoes-ness, but didn’t a lot of those preppy kids all have sex with each other? He didn’t really understand prep culture, but that’s what it always seemed like. If Hwitaek was, it’d just be a step more for Hyojong to corrupt him, in the least shitty way possible. He didn’t like Hwitaek, but he wasn’t a totally terrible person, so he wouldn’t want to really do something like that to Hwitaek, just for the sake of fucking with him. If Hwitaek wasn’t a virgin, then that was fine, and whatever. Either way was fine. He was just Hwitaek would be somewhat eager for whatever, guessing off of the way Hwitaek had acted when they were supposed to have been working on their science project. Even if he wasn’t some sort of sexual god, he’d be ten times as enthusiastic, and that was really what made it hot. Hyojong would do pretty much anything to get Hwitaek’s pretty, plump lips on him. _God_ , he couldn’t even how nice they’d feel. If his lips and tongue were soft when Hyojong kissed him, they’d be on another level elsewhere. And Hwitaek had been a good kisser, truthfully. Hyojong had kissed a decent handful of people in his lifetime—unfortunately including Wooseok—so he knew the difference between a damned good kiss, and a bad one. This kiss had been above damned good. Far, far above it. Hwitaek had a skilled, albeit loud, mouth, and the kid really knew how to kiss someone to get their blood flowing. Hyojong was sure that pretty moutb of his whould be skilled, regardless of where it was.

Hyojong _had_ to stop thinking about this, unless he wanted to leave class with a boner. Which, he didn’t.

There was one minute until the class was over. Hyojong already had all of his shit put away, and he was absolutely ready to run out of the door as soon as the professor called it. His skateboard was in his hand, and he was ready to get the fuck out of there, before Hwitaek could even _consider_ catching up to him as he left.

The professor dismissed the class, and Hyojong was already standing up, heading for the door. “Kim Hyojong, could I speak with you for a moment?” the professor asked.

_No the fuck you cannot_. Hyojong had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep form cursing at one of the people who had control over Hyojong’s future. This meant that Hyojong would have to go all the way to the front of the classroom, where Hwitaek was sitting. It gave the red-haired man an ample opportunity to stop him and try to talk to him. Quite frankly, Hyojong would have done anything to get out of it. But he trekked his way down to the front of the classroom, walking past Hwitaek like he didn’t even know he was there. He just looked up at his professor, already bored by the conversation. It wasn’t like he didn’t know what this was about.

“I presume you know what I’m about to say?” the professor said.

“I should come to class,” Hyojong droned. He got the point. He was a bad student, that was sort of his whole thing. He could see Hwitaek looking at him, listening to their conversation. Stupid prep couldn’t even mind his own business.

“It’s not a hard pass. You just have to show up and do the work,” the man said. Hyojong had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. He was one-hundred percent sure that was the _definition_ of a hard pass. “Have you been working on the project?”

Hyojong watched Hwitaek walk out the door. Maybe he would leave Hyojong alone, after all. “About that,” Hyojong said, scratching the back of his beck, “I think I should do that project alone.” Because he hated Hwitaek, and wasn’t sure he could resist the urge to suck his face, or sleep with him.

“Do you have a problem with Hui?” Hell to the fucking _yeah_ he did. “He’s a good student, you know.” Of _course_ , Hyojong knew. Everyone in the fucking world was in love with Hwitaek, except Hyojong. He just didn’t get it. “I think he’d be good for you.”

Good for Hyojong in what way? His mental stability? Not a chance. As a friend? As if. Good for Hyojong’s sex drive? Depends on how it was looked at.

Well, it looked like Hyojong wasn’t going to be doing the project. He hadn’t wanted to, in the first place. “Yeah, okay,” he said. He just wanted to leave.

“Just try a little harder, Hyojong. I’m sure Hwitaek can help you however you need. I’ll see you in class on Monday.”

Hyojong wanted to tell him how unlikely all of that was. Instead, he nodded, and turned around so he could leave.

As soon as he left the building, red hair met his eyes. He wondered if it was too late to turn around and hide in the bathroom, or something. He accidentally let himself glance at Hwitaek, for a brief second, and decided that there was no turning back, now.

“I waited for you,” Hwitaek said, eyes aimed directly at the blond’s face.

Hyojong just charged forward, walking past Hwitaek before either of them could do anything stupid. He didn’t want to talk about this. “Yeah, I figured,” he said dully. Everything he’d done today, and for the rest of the week, was to avoid having this conversation. He couldn’t verbally express how much he did not want to have to acknowledge having kissed Hwitaek.

Hwitaek gave a cute little jog to catch up with Hyojong, like a puppy following its’ owner. He gave a nervous smile. “How are you?” he asked. “You look good.”

Hyojong had half a mind to set his skateboard down, and skate away. That way, Hwitaek wouldn’t be able to catch up to him. “I’m fine,” he said, walking faster. Hwitaek looked good, too. As good as someone following him could look, he supposed. Annoying, but good. For someone Hyojong had actively avoided for almost a week, Hwitaek looked _really_ good.

Hwitaek was still jogging, trying to keep up with Hyojong’s rapidly increasing pace. Soon, they’d both be running. Hwitaek didn’t seem to mind, though. “Should we talk about what happened at my—?”

“No,” Hyojong snapped, before Hwitaek could finish his thought. Now, if Hwitaek would just shut the fuck up about it, that’d be great. If Hyojong could leave and never see him again, that’d be even better.

Unfortunately, Hwitaek was no the type of person to shut the fuck up, “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I didn’t mean to.”

Hyojong glanced at him, the pink of his lips momentarily distracting Hyojong. “It’s fine.” Great, now he was thinking about Hwitaek’s lips, again. They were so plush. In all honesty, they felt fucking amazing. Pink, and warm, and precise. Needy, and supple, and skilled. Oh, boy. What a dangerous game Hyojong played with himself. “We don’t need to talk about it.”

“I don’t want anything to be awkward between us,” Hwitaek said.

Jesus Christ, Hyojong fucking hated him. Forget how much Hyojong liked looking at Hwitaek and his lips—Hwitaek was the actual _worst_. At first, when they’d just been introduced to each other, Hyojong just found him very, very annoying. He couldn’t believe that his friends thought that this prep could even _possibly_ be his _type_. But the more and more Hyojong got to know this guy, the more he absolutely despised him. Somewhere, in the mix of things, Hyojong had lost track of his feelings for Hwitaek, and he’d been far to nice, and landed himself in this pike of shit. But now, with Hwitaek looking at him the way he was, insisting on talking about a stupid kiss that meant less to Hyojong than dirt—he remembered. Just thinking about the preppy way Hwitaek wore his jeans, and the ridiculousness of how soft his skin looked and was—it made Hyojong’s blood boil.

Hyojong sighed loudly, stopping in his tracks. This kid was really testing him, today. More than usual. “If you don’t want it to be awkward, stop _talking_ about it.” He started walking, again, hoping that Hwitaek would get the message and not follow him, this time. Even though he knew better.

Why the hell did Hyojong even know him that well? The concept of him even knowing what Hwitaek was like, and what he would do in any given circumstance, made Hyojong want to throw up. If someone had told him, two months ago, that he’d know the _personality_ of the _class president_ , he would have told them to fuck off. Hell, he still would.

He was mad at his friends for introducing this pest to him, and even more mad at himself for getting to know him. Hyojong had just gotten swept up in how visually pleasing Hwitaek was, and he’d fucked everything up. Everything he believed to be true was contradicted by his recent actions.

Hwitaek just followed along, like it was his only purpose in life. “Did it make you uncomfortable?” Hyojong chose to disregard that. “I get that kissing you was probably weird, but _you_ kissed _me_ , too—”

_Jesus fucking Christ_. “Forget it happened.” If he had to tell Hwitaek to shut the fuck up about it one more time, he was going to light himself on fire. “Everyone makes mistakes when they’re high. Don’t worry about it.” Yet, he still couldn’t be as mean to Hwitaek as he wanted to be. Partially because he was raised to be a decent person. But mostly because of some unknown force Hwitaek had in him that made it very difficult for Hyojong to be as much of an asshole as he wanted to be, and was used to being.

Hwitaek crossed his arms over his chest. He looked cute, all pouty and annoyingly insistent. “Isn’t it weird if we just forget about it?” he asked, lips turned down.

Hyojong rolled his eyes. “Weirder if we keep talking about it.” Why couldn’t Hwitaek just be a normal person, who hadn’t kissed Hyojong, who also never talked to him? Was that so much to ask. Why did Hwitaek have to be good looking, and talkative, and _far_ too friendly? It was a cruel world Hyojong lived in. Hyojong pursed his lips. “It won’t be weird if we act like it never happened.” He’d never been so uninterested in a conversation in his entire life.

“I just feel like we should talk about it,” Hwitaek started. “Obviously I’m attracted to you, and as far as I can tell, you’re at least somewhat—”

“Look, kid,” Hyojong interrupted. He was one button being pushed away from taking his lighter out, and letting himself burn to death, right on campus. “I don’t want to talk about this. At all.” How much clearer could he be?

“Okay,” Hwitaek nodded, sparkling eyes wide.

Hyojong started walking, again. “Don’t even worry about it. It doesn’t matter.” It didn’t matter that Hyojong wanted to take Hwitaek into a bathroom on campus, and do things to him that would make his mom cry, if she knew about them. It didn’t matter that Hyojong thought that Hwitaek’s lips were like pillows made out of clouds, and that Hyojong wanted them in places he couldn’t even express without getting flustered. It just mattered that they were two, very different people, that were not made to get along.

Hwitaek followed Hyojong, but not as closely as before. “Can we go back to acting how we did, before?”

Did he mean back when Hyojong would get a boner just from looking at him, or back when they didn’t know each other? What was Hyojong talking about? He _still_ felt like he was going to get a boner. “Sure,” Hyojong said, more to humour the other man, than anything. He didn’t want to look at Hwitaek, for a couple of reasons. One: boners. Two: Hyojong didn’t want to feel anything besides hate for Hwitaek. Basically, both reasons were boners. Hyojong kept walking. “I’m leaving, now.”

He could hear Hwitaek slowly come to a stop behind him. “Back to being friends, then?” Hyojong didn’t have to look at Hwitaek to know that he was giving a hopeful smile.

Hyojong waved a hand back at Hwitaek, dismissing the idea. They weren’t friends. They weren’t _ever_ friends. There was not one single thing about Hwitaek that made Hyojong want to get to know him. He didn’t fit well with Hyojong, and he didn’t make sense with the rest of Hyojong’s friend group. They all had a certain dynamic, and Hwitaek’s was not one they were looking for. And Hyojong hated the class president. Always had. It didn’t matter who the class president was, or who he’d made out with. Hyojong _hated_ him. He felt like he sometimes lost sight of that. Just because Hwitaek was hot, and he because he made Hyojong horny. But he did. And as far a she could tell, he fucking hated Hwitaek.

Hyojong put his skateboard down on the pavement, made _sure_ not to look back at Hwitaek, and skated off, without another word.

They just weren’t made to get along.

 

As soon as Hyojong’s attractive face had entered Hwitaek’s line of sight in their class, Hwitaek had felt excited. Nervous, and like his stomach was doing a million flips per second, but still excited. He liked seeing Hyojong’s face, and his messy blond hair, and the way he slouched in his chair, like he didn’t want to be there. He also liked the potential of being able to talk to Hyojong. About the kissing, but also just in general. He was excited to speak with Hyojong again, and converse like they had before. Hyojong had a unique, intelligent mind. Hwitaek liked that about him.

“I waited for you,” Hwitaek said, as soon as Hyojong walked outside. He wasn’t sure why he said it—he was sure that Hyojong could assume that Hwitaek had waited, since he was out here. He just felt so nervous. His mouth wanted to say something entirely less cool and composed than Hwitaek actually wanted to say. Hyojong was still impossibly pleasant to look at.

“Yeah, I figured,” Hyojong said, walking past Hwitaek. He smelled good. Whatever cologne Hyojong was wearing was very appealing. It was the type of cologne that made someone all the more attractive. It made Hwitaek’s mouth dry.

Hwitaek walked after him, admiring how the broadness of Hyojong’s shoulders looked with the fabric of his shirt hanging off of them. “How are you?” Hwitaek asked, used to asking this to be polite. He wanted to say something better. He and Hyojong were friends, he didn’t have to give him the basic greeting. “You look good,” Hwitaek blurted. Maybe anything past the basic greeting was a bad idea. Hyojong looked _too_ good, apparently, for Hwitaek’s speaking skills to be anything above disappointingly mediocre. Hyojong looked _way_ better than Hwitaek had remembered, which was saying a lot. His milky skin was smooth, and his blond hair framed his face perfectly. When he looked at Hwitaek, it was apparent his narrow eyes were. His lips, on the other hand, were a shade of hot pink that Hwitaek wanted to live in.

“I’m fine,” Hyojong said tersely. He was carrying a skateboard—Hwitaek didn’t know he could skate. Hyojong’s coolness never ended, did it?

Hwitaek felt like Hyojong was walking a lot faster than most people walked. Hwitaek kept up, though, mostly so he could look at Hyojong’s abnormally perfect side profile. Now, to ask what Hwitaek had been stressing about for nearly an entire week. “Should we talk about what happened at my—?"

Dorm, was what he was going to say. Since he’d gone through this conversation in his head, a countless number of times. Instead, Hyojong spoke. “No.”

Hwitaek didn’t really understand _why_ Hyojong wouldn’t want to talk about it. It was sort of a big deal, and there were probably a few things that they should establish. Unless Hyojong really didn’t like it. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” Hwitaek apologized. “I didn’t mean to.” He’d just been so wrapped up in Hyojong’s alluring aura and physicality, that he’d acted on impulse. He didn’t regret it at all, but he definitely didn’t want Hyojong to be uncomfortable.

“It’s fine,” Hyojong said. He glanced at the red-haired man, and Hwitaek could feel a giddy chill run up his spine. Hyojong kind of looked at Hwitaek like he wanted to eat him alive. Hwitaek kind of wanted him to. “We don’t have to talk about it.” Hyojong’s eyes found Hwitaek’s lips, just for a second, but Hwitaek didn’t miss it. He saw Hyojong’s adam’s apple bob with a swallow, and his gaze move away quicker than it had appeared.

In his entire life, Hyojong had never wanted to kiss someone so badly. Hwitaek couldn’t even believe how much he still wanted to kiss Hyojong. He’d never _really_ wanted to kiss _anyone_ before this, he’d just kissed people for the fun of it, or because he had no reason not to. Now, though, it was all he could think about. It was all he’d been able to think about since it happened, and it was all he could think about now. He liked the way Hyojong’s mouth looked and felt, and he wanted to feel it again. And he liked Hyojong’s hands, how they were soft, yet touched him so roughly, like the way he kissed. Hwitaek couldn’t stop thinking about Hwitaek’s hands and mouth, and how they felt, and how they might feel everywhere else.

“I don’t want anything to be awkward between us,” Hwitaek said, before he could let his thoughts get too out of hand. Besides, he liked being Hyojong’s friend, and he didn’t want to mess that up, just because he was a college student with a lot of urges.

Hyojong stopped walking, giving a soft sigh. Hwitaek had to halt quickly, so he didn’t run into the blond’s side. Hyojong looked Hwitaek up and down, from his face, to his neck, down his torso, and then back up. “If you don’t want it to be awkward, stop talking about it.” Hyojong’s focused gaze mad Hwitaek feel vulnerable, and exposed, like Hyojong was looking right through Hwitaek’s clothes, and skin, and into every less-than-appropriate thought Hwitaek had ever had. Hwitaek felt oddly vulnerable. But not… in a… _bad_ way.

Hwitaek would definitely have to dwell on what type of person that made him, later. For now, though, Hwitaek was busy trailing behind Hyojong as he began walking again. “Did it make you uncomfortable?” Hwitaek asked, going for a more direct approach. He really wanted to know if Hyojong hated the kiss, or if he didn’t. Hyojong didn’t answer right away, though, or at all, just looked at Hwitaek in a way that made the red-haired man hot under the collar of his shirt. Hwitaek decided to keep going. “I get that kissing you was probably weird, but _you_ kissed _me_ , too—” Basically, if it was unpleasant for Hyojong in the first place, why did he kiss Hwitaek back, in the way that he did?

“Forget it happened,” Hyojong said quickly, stopping again, as he did. “Everyone makes mistakes when they’re high. Don’t worry about it.”

Except, it hadn’t _been_ a mistake, and Hwitaek didn’t _want_ to forget about it, because he happened to really enjoy it. He liked the way Hyojong had kissed him like he was trying to crush him under the pressure of it all. He didn’t want to forget about it, he wanted to do the exact opposite. He wanted to keep thinking about it until he couldn’t think of anything else. Forgetting about something that made him as dizzy and warm as that did had no use. He probably forget about it, even if he’d wanted to. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Isn’t it weird if we just forget about it?”

“Weirder if we keep talking about it,” Hyojong said. Hwitaek really wanted to argue. He just didn’t understand how ignoring something as significant as a kiss would make anything better. Hyojong was already acting awkward, and Hwitaek was _sure_ that it could be solved by just talking about it. He quickly forgot about his argument, though, because he was distracted by the pursing of Hyojong’s lips. “It isn’t weird if we act like it never happened.”

“I just feel like we should talk about it,” Hwitaek huffed. He felt like they should talk about it because he wanted to know what Hyojong was thinking. Hwitaek was genuinely still amazed that he had even managed to make out with the hottest person he’d ever seen. “Obviously I’m attracted to you, and as far as I can tell, you’re at least somewhat—”

“Look, kid,” Hyojong interrupted. Hwitaek was fairly certain that Hyojong was younger than him, but he kept quiet. All Hwitaek wanted him to do was either confirm or deny that he liked kissing Hwitaek, so Hwitaek could make his next move from there. “I don’t want to talk about this. At all.”

Hwitaek didn’t want to sound weird, or anything, but Hyojong snapping at him like that was kind of… hot? Really, really spicy. Hot. “Okay,” Hwitaek nodded, out of breath. He kind of wanted Hyojong to tell him what to do, in that tone. Hwitaek really had some self-exploration to do, now didn’t he?

“Don’t even worry about it,” Hyojong said, moving to walk again. He was walking backwards slowly, eyes trained on Hwitaek’s face. “It doesn’t matter.” Hyojong’s lips formed the words prettily. The way he talked was really cute, with his lips pouted out, and words slightly mumbled. It was attractive. Hwitaek liked watching him talk.

Hwitaek followed slowly, watching the way Hyojong’s hair floated around his face as he turned around. He had a feeling Hyojong was done with the conversation. “Can we go back to acting how we did, before?” Before things had gotten awkward, when they were just getting acquainted with each other, and it was a fun, flirty mess of things that seemed a lot easier than the post-kiss situation.

Broad shoulder shrugged slightly. “Sure,” Hyojong said. “I’m leaving, now.”

Hwitaek could only assume that this meat that Hyojong didn’t like the kiss. He didn’t understand why he’d kiss Hwitaek back, if that were the case, but either way, he didn’t seem thrilled about the subject. “Back to being friends, then?” Hwitaek asked, gicing a hopeful smile, even though he knew Hyojong couldn’t see him. If Hwitaek couldn’t make out with Hyojong, at least he could be friends with him. Being Hyojong’s friend was just as good as kissing him, in all honesty. Hyojong was a nice friend to have, Hwitaek wasn’t upset that they couldn’t be more than that. Sure, sometimes he was _really_ going to want Hyojong to kiss him roughly, but he’d get over it. He didn’t _have_ to be physical with Hyojong to enjoy their relationship. Hwitaek would just have to try _really_ hard not to think about how hoy Hyojong was, at all times. Because, really, not matter what Hyojong did, it left Hwitaek a little breathless, and slightly aroused. Not a lot of people made Hwitaek feel that way, and even though Hyojong did, Hwitaek couldn’t try to make a big deal out of it. HE would stop thinking about how nice Hyojong’s hands looked when he flicked a lighter on, or moved his hair away from his face. Along with that, he’d stop letting Hyojong’s hands build a fire in the pit of his stomach, and stop wanting those hands elsewhere. He’d stop thinking about how inviting Hyojong’s lap looked when he sat, and he’d stop wanting to be the one invited to it. He’d stop wanting to see how Hyojong’s obviously muscular body looked in less than he usually wore. Hwitaek would have to stop thinking about how mind-blowingly hot Hyojong was when he looked especially mean, but he’d also have to figure out _why_ Hyojong was hot to him when he was mean, or especially rough with Hwitaek, and why Hwitaek felt like he wanted Hyojong to tear him down. He wasn’t sure what all of it meant, but he was sure it was a new development in the process of being discovered.

Changgu was right. Hwitaek like Hyojong. As… a friend? Yeah, as a friend. Because that’s all they were, and Hwitaek’s hormones couldn’t get in the way of that.

Hyojong wordlessly waved a hand back at Hwitaek as he walked away. Then, he set his skateboard down, hopped on, and skated away.

Hwitaek was only slightly disappointed that Hyojong didn’t look back at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please, please leave a comment telling me how you feel about these characters, this fic in general, or any of the recent developments. I'd love to hear all of your feedback, and what you like about this fic, so I can try to make this the best fic it could be!
> 
> Thank you so much!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, all!
> 
> I'm sorry this update took a little longer than usual, I've been really busy lately. This chapter is mostly setting up for what's to come, so like some of the past chapters, this one is not as good, nor is it as exciting. It's mostly to establish relationships and build up to what's in store.
> 
> On the bright side, I have the next three chapters after this one written, and I think you're all going to really like what I do with this series.
> 
> Thank you for reading!

Hwitaek walked right up to Hyojong, as if they’d been friends forever. Which, in case anyone was wondering, they _hadn’t_.

“Hey, Hyojong,” he said, smiling up at him. Hyojong had began smoking in his regular place, again, perched on the short brick wall. For some reason, Hwitaek tho9ught it was somehow appropriate to just walk up to he and Wooseok. “Hey, Wooseok.”

“Hey, Hui, what’s up?” he asked, handing Hyojong the joint. He elbowed Hyojong in the side pointedly, practically forcing him to be nice and get along.

“’Sup?” is what Hyojong chose to greet him with, just to appease Wooseok.

Hwitaek absolutely _beamed_ at Hyojong’s words. Weird kid. “I just wanted to stop by and see you guys,” he explained. “Where are the others?”

Smoke left Wooseok’s mouth as he spoke. “Yanan will be out in a second,” he said. Hyojong hadn’t realized that Yanan was officially a part of their group. He supposed it could be worse. At least Yanan was quiet. “Yuto and Kino are probably doing it, somewhere.”

Hyojong snorted, amused. “Definitely.”

The red-haired man looked confused, and then shocked. “On campus?” he asked. His eyes were wide, lips forming a cute circle shape, like they did whenever he was focused or surprised. How annoying.

“Yeah,” Hyojong said, raising his eyebrows. “They do it all the time.”

Hwitaek looked really amazed that college students had sex. “Wow,” he said, “I can’t believe they can get away with something like that.”

Wooseok laughed. “It’s not like they’re doing it in the middle of a classroom. They’re careful about it.” He took the joint from Hyojong, placing it between his lips.

Hyojong nodded in agreement. “It’s what college is for. We’re— _they’re_ —supposed to have sex everywhere.” Not _we_. No way.

The taller man shook his head in amusement, like he often did when Hyojong spoke. “I don’t agree with your logic, but okay.”

“That’s because you’re a prude, and so is Yanan,” Hyojong snorted. They could still hardly look at each other without getting shy. Hyojong had never seen them do so much as hold hands. He could just _imagine_ how awkward and quiet the sex would be.

“I’m not prude,” Wooseok pouted.

Hwitaek laughed, leaning into them. “ _Cute_ ,” he cooed, smacking the youngest man on the knee.

“Are too,” Hyojong snarked. “I bet you’d start crying if Yana tried to get in your pants.”

Wooseok raised his eyebrows. “Sorry I don’t make out with every person I see.”

Well.

Hyojong blinked a few times, and cleared his throat. Everything was already awkward enough with Hwitaek, he didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that they’d made out. Regardless of how Hyojong responded, it was just going to make things worse. If he denied that he made out with every person he saw, all it was going to do was validate him making out with Hwitaek, even though he really didn’t make out with many people. And if he agreed with Wooseok, it’d give Hyojong no excuse to having reacted to the kiss, the way he did. Anything he said was destined to be for the worst. The silence was just as bad, though.

Wooseok looked shocked, either from his own words, or the fact that Hyojong hadn’t moved to hit him, yet. Hwitaek was smiling, a little too wide for it to look natural or genuine, and his round eyes were unmoving from Wooseok’s face. Hyojong was staring at the ground.

He was still in the midst of deciding if he was going to shove Wooseok off of the wall, or if he was just going to stay quiet and completely ignore what had been said. He settled on doing both. He took the joint from Wooseok, putting it between his lips so he had an excuse not to speak. He used all of his strength to push Wooseok’s giant body off of the wall.

A tall blond appeared in the distance, heading straight for the tallest man.

“Yanan!” Wooseok said quickly, straightening. He wrapped his arms around the blond man, holding onto him for dear life.

Yanan returned the hug, squishing his cheek against Wooseok’s head. A small smile moved onto his lips. “Hello,” he said softly.

“Really glad you’re here,” Hyojong said, joint moving between his lips. “I was just about to pound your boytoy, here, and not in a hot way.” He laughed at his own joke, as always. He couldn’t help his impeccable sense of humour, sometimes. Even if other people didn’t always love it.

Hwitaek laughed that loud cackle, nose wrinkled with his smile. Hyojong’s joke was funny, but it wasn’t _that_ funny.

Yanan just looked concerned for his giant of a boyfriend.

Wooseok decided to jump in at an appropriate time. “How was your class?” he asked, pressing a quick kiss to the blond’s cheek. It was so weird, to Hyojong, that these two gentle giants had found each other. They were both so soft and quiet, and it was a wonder that Wooseok had managed to snatch someone so close to his height. Damn near everyone was way shorter than Wooseok, to the point where it would look weird if he were in a relationship with them. Fortunately, Yanan was only a little bit shorter than Wooseok, and also a freak of nature in that aspect, according to Hyojong. Relationships were weird.

“Long,” Yanan sighed. As opposed to when Yanan looked at Hyojong, he didn’t look disgusted or frightened when he looked at Wooseok. He smiled, all the way up to his eyes, in a very natural way. “Are you ready to go?”

“You’re leaving us?” Hyojong asked quickly. Wooseok could _not_ leave him alone with Hwitaek. This is what Hyojong got for pushing him. Karma’s a bitch.

Wooseok fidgeted his hands, eyeing his boyfriend’s face. “Yeah, uh, we have to go—"

“We have plans,” Yanan said, shooting Hyojong a tight-lipped smile. Hyojong didn’t know how to respond, or tell Wooseok that he really couldn’t stand the _idea_ of being alone with Hwitaek again, so he just shrugged. Wooseok looked lost to the conversation, to say the least. Yanan put his hands on Wooseok’s shoulders and manually turned him around. He gave a small wave to the other two. Hyojong didn’t move, but Hwitaek waved excitedly. As the taller two walked away, Wooseok bumped his shoulder against Yanan’s, intertwining their fingers. Huh.

Hyojong didn’t look at Hwitaek, or anything. He was sitting more still than he’d ever sat in his life. He figured that if he didn’t acknowledge Hwitaek’s existence, he’d disappear.

“Hyojong,” Hwitaek said. Fuck damn it. The blond slowly turned his head to look at Hwitaek. Why didn’t he disappear? He didn’t say anything still, just looked at the red-haired man, the edges of his mouth turned down. Were Hwitaek’s eyelashes always so long? They brushed the tops of his cheeks, when he blinked. “I don’t regret kissing you, you know.”

New flash: Hyojong _still_ didn’t want to talk about this. He swallowed hard. “Okay.” Really, what the fuck was supposed to say? ‘ _I regret it, but I still want to do it again. And more. And a _lot_ more. Some really disgusting thing. I actually kind of hate you, but you’re so charming and attractive, it’s hard to think about anything other than giving you the best dick of your life_.’ Yeah, Hyojong wasn’t sure that would go over well.

“I just want to let you know.” He pat Hyojong on the knee, looking up at Hyojong with a polite smile on his face. “But I’m really glad we can be friends.”

“Alright.”

“And I know hearing that probably makes you uncomfortable, and I’m sorry for that. But I tolf you that I’m bad at hiding how I’m feeling.” His hair was a faded red, closer to a salmon colour, than the red it had been before. It looked soft. Hyojong briefly remembered that it _was_ soft.

Right. Hwitaek _had_ told Hyojong that, around the same time they’d made out. At least he hadn’t lied. So far, Hwitaek was very, very good at being shockingly open with his feelings, and living up to Hyojong’s every expectation. “I’ve noticed.”

Hwitaek eyes snapped up to Hyojong’s face. “We’re cool, right? Like, nothing is weird between us?” His hand slowly slid off of Hyojong’s knee, tucking into the small front pockets at his waist.

Hyojong didn’t want to answer that. But he knew that Hwitaek wouldn’t stop looking at him with those warm brown eyes, until he did. “Sure.”

“Great,” Hwitaek grinned. His teeth were white, and his smile was wide. Hyojong felt like he was going to be blinded. At least the last thing he’d see would be pretty. “I think we’re going to be really good friends.”

All Hyojong could do was nod.

Hwitaek _still_ wasn’t done talking. How did he have so much to say? At this point, Hyojong would have run out of wors to say, not to mention a subject to go on about. “I liked hanging out with all of you. When we were at Wooseok and Yuto’s dorm. That was fun.” He smiled up at Hyojong, his nose wrinkled in the annoyingly cute way it did. “You’re all so _cool_.

Hyojong sincerely wanted to let Hwitaek know how embarrassingly _uncool_ all of them were, but he didn’t want to take the time. Hyojong wasn’t cool, in conventional terms, because all he ever wanted to do was pet cats and avoid public boners. Yuto wasn’t cool, well, because he was one of the softest people on the planet, who was deathly afraid of the dark. And having Kino around only made him worse. Kino was cool because he was nice, but he liked _Yuto_ , so that sort of cancelled it out. Wooseok wasn’t cool because he was almost literally a flower. And Shinwon wasn’t cool because he was Shinwon, and Hyojong thought that was enough of an explanation. They were the least cool group of people Hyojong had ever met. “Glad you think so,” Hyojong said dryly. Hwitaek’s standards for coolness were clearly very low.

“Oh, hey, Hui,” Kino grinned, walking up to them. Yuto was draped over his back, like the baby he was. Kino’s hair looked a little messier than usual, like someone had fucked it all up, and tried very hard to put it back into place. He looked _really_ happy, as if the sun were trying to burst out of him. “I didn’t expect you to be here.”

Hyojong frowned. “Me too,” he grumbled.

Yuto smacked Hyojong on the leg, over Kino’s shoulder. “It’s nice to see you here, Hui. We usually always smoke here; you should come see us more often.” He looked pointedly at Hyojong, who narrowed his eyes.

“Sure,” Hwitaek nodded happily.

“How was your semi-public sex?” Hyojong asked, wanting to change the subject before Hwitaek could get invited anywhere else.

Kino looked up from where he was reaching over his own shoulder to light Yuto’s cigarette. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said quickly. His eyes flickered to Hwitaek. He was probably more worried about the red-haired man knowing, than anything.

“Yuto,” Hyojong said, a tight-lipped smile coming onto his features. “Your fly is down.” He snickered at the way the all three of the others got flustered. Yuto hurried to zip it up immediately, choking on smoke. Kino’s face was red, scolding his boyfriend for not paying better attention, especially when he’d reminded him. Hwitaek wouldn’t look at any of them, the tips of his ears bright pink. Hyojong loved what he did.

“Sorry,” Yuto choked out. He took a long drag of his cigarette, eyes narrowed at the blond.

Kino threw a cheeky smile over his shoulder. “It was good, to answer your question.”

Hyojong wrinkled his nose. “Didn’t actually want to know. Just wanted to fuck with you.”

“You asked,” Yuto said, giving that funny, high-pitched laugh of his.

“My mistake.”

Hwitaek still looked startled. “Did you really have sex on campus?” It wasn’t like there was really anything confusing about that. College kids had sex _all the time_ , it wasn’t like they avoided campus just because it was a tiny bit taboo. It wasn’t even that bad. Hyojong had done worse. Not lately, but at some point in his life, he had.

Yuto didn’t seem like he wanted to answer that, so he put his cigarette between ihis lips and looked to his boyfriend. “Of course we did,” Kino said, his cheeks tinted pink. Hyojong didn’t know how he could act so shy about it, when he’d literally just gotten back from sucking Yuto off in what was most likely a family bathroom. “We had an hour to kill, and we already ate.”

“Sure did,” Hyojong snorted.

Yuto covered his face with his hands, and Kino flushed a deeper shade of colour. “ _Hyojong_ ,” Kino chided. Hwitaek laughed loudly. Hyojong had to try really hard not to smile at the sound. He wasn’t sure he succeeded.

“Hey,” Hwitaek said excitedly, vision moving between the three others. “I should totally introduce you to all of my friends, soon. I think you’ve met most of them,” he said to Yuto and Kino. “But Hyojong, you’ve only met Yanan, right?”

If Hwitaek’s friends were anything like him, Hyojong did not want to meet them. “I don’t know,” he shrugged.

The red-haired man touched Hyojong’s knee lightly. “I want all of my friends to be friends,” he grinned. Hyojong wanted to tell him that it was already done, then, since Hyojong wasn’t his friend.

“Wooseok and I are having another get together this weekend. You should invite them to that,” Yuto said.

“I can’t go to that,” Hyojong said quickly.

“Why not?” Yuto glared.

Homework was no excuse, since he was supposed to be working on he and Hwitaek’s stupid science project, and he _knew_ Hwitaek would be invested in that. He couldn’t say he had plans with someone else, because it was very obvious that he only had four friends, and they were all going to be there. Essentially, Hyojong had made a huge mistake. “I have work to do?” Hyojong tried. It sounded more like a question, even to him.

Yuto clearly did not believe a word Hyojong said. Smart kid. “I’ll buy you a gram—”

“I’m in,” Hyojong said, changing his mind so fast, he thought he was going to get whiplash. He clapped the younger man on the back. Trust marijuana to get Hyojong somewhere.

Hwitaek put both of his hands on Hyojong’s legs. “Great!” he beamed. “I’m so excited for you to get to meet my friends.” He wasn’t looking at Yuto or Kino, or even Shinwon, even though he’d just approached the group. He just stared up at Hyojong, as if Hyojong was the only person he was talking to. Hyojong felt weirdly exposed.

Hyojong cleared his throat loudly. He pulled his gaze away from Hwitaek’s, and up to Kino. “You have a wonderful boyfriend,” he smiled. He did not like the way Hwitaek was looking at him. He wanted to change the subject, and his line of sight, as quickly as possible.

Kino smiled, and turned to look lovingly at his boyfriend. “I know,” he said. He stood on the tips of his toes to give the taller man a sweet peck on the cheek. Yuto could not have looked happier.

“Get a room,” Shinwon grimaced.

Yuto grinned proudly, all of his white teeth on full display. “Already did,” he said in a low tone. If that voice wasn’t going to get Kino into bed again before the night was over, nothing would.

Shinwon looked confused, but still appropriately disgusted, so Hyojong sighed. “They just had sex.”

“Of course they did,” Shinwon snipped, mouth downturned.

Hwitaek looked at the couple with wide, wonderous eyes. “I still can’t believe people actually do that. Like… do stuff in public.” He kept looking Yuto and Kino up and down, as if he was trying to literally see what made them want to have sex on a college campus. It was simple, really. They were both, what, like twenty? And in a long term relationship, where both sides of the couple were above average in attractiveness.

“It’s really not that weird.” Hyojong rolled his eyes and snorted. “What, are you a virgin, or something?” On a list of things Hyojong did not want to ask Hwitaek, if he was a virgin was probably second. Right after, ‘ _marry me_?’ He didn’t _want_ to know whether Hwitaek was a virgin, or not. Either way, Hyojong was just going to keep thinking about it, and then he was going to get a boner. And then he was going to hate himself for it.

If Hwitaek wasn’t a virgin, Hyojong was going to think about Hwitsek having sex with someone. He was going to try to think up every little detail of it, from the noises and faces Hwitaek made, to the way his slim body looked naked. And he was going to wonder if Hwitaek was good with his hands, or his mouth, and if those pretty lips felt as good for someone else, as they did when Hyojong had been kissing him. He was going to want to know if Hwitaek was good in bed, and what made him so good, and if Hyojong could experience the skill first-hand. And Hyojong was going to get hot in the pants.

If he was a virgin, Hyojong was going to think about changing that. He was going to think about making Hwitaek feel better than he’d ever felt before, and wonder what sorts of noises, and expressions, and movements Hwitaek would make for him. He’d think about what it’d be like to get inside of Hwitaek, and tear his walls down, in the most _painfully_ intimate way possible. He was going to think about what Hwitaek’s slim body looked like naked. And he was going to think of all the wonderful, disgusting things he’d be able to teach Hwitaek how to do, and how _good_ he’d be, experience or not. And Hyojong was going to get hot in the pants.

Why did he do this to himself?

Hwitaek’s cheeks were red. Hyojong’s probably were, too. All of his friends were looking at him incredulously, mouths agape and eyebrows raised.

“Uh,” Hwitaek said, voice soft. Hyojong wanted to tell him to not answer that. Unfortunately, his mouth was dry from both the subject at hand, and the high he was feeling, so Hyojong couldn’t do much of anything. Mainly, he wanted to know why the _hell_ his friends didn’t intercept. Probably so they could watch Hyojong suffer. “Not quite,” Hwitaek answered, face turning redder.

It was too warm. Hyojong felt like he was sitting directly in front of the sun. He was pretty sure he was sweating. It was too hot, under his clothes—he wanted to take them off, but that’d only make matters worse. Was everyone looking at him? Were they expecting him to say something? What the fuck was he supposed to say? ‘ _I am definitely not thinking about you fucking someone, or someone fucking you, right now. And I am_ definitely _not aroused_.’ Hyojong couldn’t lie so blatantly, like that. He cleared his throat. “That was a rhetorical question,” he coughed out. Hwitaek’s face was damn near the colour of his hair.

Kino looked around the group with his wide, all-knowing eyes. “Does Saturday work for everyone?” he asked, voice and smile extra-friendly, to make up for the amount of awkward silence Hyojong had just lived through. 

Everyone started talking at once, relieved to be out of their previous situation. 

“I live there, so—” 

_“I’m willing to work with whatever. I can’t wait for you all to meet my friends.”_

“I _clearly_ have a hectic social life, since I am beautiful and charming, but I _suppose_ I can make time for you—” 

“Shut up, Shinwon,” Hyojong laughed. 

Kino smiled. “Sounds good to me. Hyojong, if Yuto and I give you some money, will you pick us up some beer?” 

The blond shrugged. “You know it.” He looked at Hwitaek with half-lidded eyes. He truly believed, at the very bottom of his heart, that someone so annoying should have been less attractive. “You drinking, or no?” 

Hwitaek looked surprised to be talked to. “Oh, I don’t know.” He fidgeted his hands. “Probably not, but… maybe?” 

Hyojong put his blunt out on the top of the brick wall, and hopped off so he could stand. “Whatever. Just let me know.” He hoped, for his own sake, that he wouldn’t have to see Hwitaek drink, again. “I’m out.” He was bored of being at school, and sick of looking at Hwitaek’s perfectly structured face. Everything about Hwitaek was _perfectly structured_. His lifestyle, his body, his face. It was so _fucking_ irritating. 

“See you later, Hyojong,” he heard Hwitaek say, in that ridiculous, cutesy voice of his. It made Hyojong want to cringe, or yell at him, or do something to let all of his frustration out. 

“Yeah.” 

God, he fucking hated that kid. No amount of arousal could change that. 

Hyojong’s mind was not easily changed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment telling me how you feel about this less exciting chapter! Any comments are appreciated ^^
> 
> Instagram: hypjpng
> 
> Tumblr: [edawnings](https://edawnings.tumblr.com)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyojong continues to be troubled by Hwitaek, and everything that he is as a person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, all!
> 
> I'm sorry this chapter took a bit to type up, but I hope you all enjoy it! I'm officially on summer vacation, so I'll be able to update more frequently.
> 
> Thank you for reading!

Was Hyojong being tortured? Quite possibly.

He’d told all of his friends about the bullshit talk he’d had with Hwitaek, to just be ‘friends.’ He thought it was stupid, especially since he absolutely did not want to be friends with Hwitaek, but it shut his friends up, so at least he got something out of it. They—mostly Wooseok—thought it was nice that Hyojong was getting along with the other kids.

“I’m not getting along with him,” Hyojong had said. “I’m just not sucking his face.”

“Well,” Wooseok had said, with a small chuckle, “at least you’re kind of pretending to be nice.”

Due to this arrangement—that Hyojong didn’t ever really agree to—they had to act the same as they did before they got high and made out. Which was fine with Hyojong, since he didn’t _want_ to get high with Hwitaek and make out with him, again. He didn’t want to be friends with him, in the first place. Even worse, though, it technically meant that if Hwitaek got Hyojong all hot and bothered, Hyojong couldn’t _do_ anything about it. Hyojong wouldn’t be able to tell Hwitaek to shut the fuck up, so he could make out with him, just to let off steam. He couldn’t drag Hwitaek off, and do the things that went through his head, to him. Even if he’d wanted to, he couldn’t. Of course, the _last_ thing Hyojong wanted to do was be near Hwitaek, _especially_ with how badly their last encounter had been, with Hyojong asking him if he was a virgin, and Wooseok’s hardly necessary comment, and just everything that had gone terribly wrong. Hyojong didn’t want to have any sort of contact with Hwitaek—physical, or otherwise.

Except that Hyojong _did_ sometimes want to do a bunch of stuff to Hwitaek. And this made it feel like the whole universe was against Hyojong, and was doing it’s very best to torture him. More specifically, Hwitaek was torturing Hyojong. Mostly because Hwitaek was hot. And Hyojong was pretty sure he knew it.

Take right now, for example. They were all hanging out at Wooseok and Yuto’s dorm, like they’d planned on doing. Hyojong had bitched at Yuto for even _considering_ inviting him, but since it wasn’t Hyojong who lived here, Yuto could ‘invite whoever he wanted, regardless of whether Hyojong was awkward about making out with someone, or not.’ Hyojong had kept arguing, since it wasn’t the kiss that was the problem, but instead Hwitaek’s general personality, but he had lost, so he was suffering through it. At least Yuto had bought him weed.

Hwitaek had, unsurprisingly, showed up early. Hyojong was technically early, too, but only because he’d been at their place all day. So it wasn’t the same.

Hyojong had expected Hwitaek to look his regular level of good—not that he _cared_ what Hwitaek looked like—but of course, in spite of Hyojong’s uncontrollable hormones, he looked _better_. He had clearly just gotten back from the campus gym, slightly glistening with what was either sweat or water, his hair damp. He was wearing pants that were most likely too tight to really be appropriate, with the way they hugged his ass and thighs. His ass should have actually been _illegal_ with how good it looked, and Hyojong noticed it as soon as the red-haired man walked through the door. Hwitaek was also wearing a cutoff shirt, which couldn’t be too great for Hyojong’s health, since he had nice arms and shoulders, and every time he moved, the sides of his ribcage were revealed. His skin colour was pretty, and it took Hyojong a whole lot of self-control to look away.

“Bad news,” Hwitaek said, a wide smile on his face. “The others already had plans to go to a sporting event, so they won’t be able to make it, today.” Thank god there would only be one annoying prep here, today.

“That’s alright,” Yuto said. For whatever reason, he was letting Kino hop onto his back, preparing to give him a piggyback ride. “Next time.”

Kino nodded in agreement, looping his arms around the taller man’s shoulders. “At least you could make it.”

Hwitaek smiled sweetly and moved to talk to the couple. His shirt shifted, revealing a particularly muscular expanse of his torso. Even though his ribs were visible, and he was slender, the muscles at his sides and what Hyojong could see of his stomach were prevalent.

An elbow lodged itself in Hyojong’s side. He snapped his head to look at Wooseok. “Yes?” Hyojong asked, as if his mouth hadn’t just been watering while he was looking at Hwitaek’s thin torso.

Wooseok rolled his eyes, smiling. His boyfriend, or whatever he and Yanan were at this point, was practically sitting on top of him. “Who don’t you just do something about it?” he asked, eyes flickering to where Hwitaek was standing.

Hyojong wrinkled his nose. “I would _literally_ rather die,” he said. No matter how much Hyojong sometimes wanted to put it in Hwitaek, he would never—could never—have sex with the class president. The only thing worse than that, in Hyojong’s book, was being friends with the guy.

Shinwon decided it was a good time to butt in, as always. “You are absolutely ridiculous,” he scoffed. “You’d think for how horny you are, you’d actually be trying to get laid.”

Hyojong looked up at Hwitaek briefly, meeting his gaze, and looked away quickly. “I don’t need to,” Hyojong said. He was really trying to not look at Hwitaek. “I have a right hand, and an active imagination.”

Shinwon made a disgusted hacking noise. “Don’t ever say that again.”

Hyojong laughed loudly, and accidentally looked at Hwitaek. The red-haired man was smiling at him, in the way that he did, where the sides of his eyes creased. He was nodding to whatever Kino kept going on about, but he kept looking at Hyojong. Hyojong looked back to his friends. “I’m just being honest.”

“Please don’t be,” Shinwon said bitterly.

“Fine,” Hyojong said, smiling at Shinwon. “Your hair looks good today, Shinwon.” Hit him where it hurts.

It took Shinwon a second, and then he hasped. “Holy fuck,” he said, eyes wide.

Hyojong laughed loudly, Wooseok and Yuto joining in. Yanan was smiling. “That was so perfect,” Wooseok said, holding his hand out for a high-five.

Hyojong gave it to him, and looked to Shinwon. “You really set yourself up for that,” he pointed out.

Shinwon rolled his eyes, but smiled anyway. “One day, I’m going to find someone who likes my hair so much, they’re going to want to come on it.” He waved a finger in the air, shaking his head quickly. “But I won’t let him. Perfection like this can’t be altered, even for someone super hot.”

“What if you really love him?” Yanan asked, looking at Shinwon. Hyojong was the only person Yanan wouldn’t talk to. He didn’t really know why.

Shinwon thought about this, for a moment, as if it were the hardest choice he’d ever had to make. “If I really love him,” he said, tapping his foot. He scrunched his face up and crossed his arm. “I guess if I really love him, I’d let him get come in my hair. But he has to clean it out.”

“Modern romance,” Hyojong deadpanned.

“Right,” Shinwon huffed, “mister ‘I don’t know how to like a boy, so I’m just mean to him.’ You’re really one to talk.”

Hyojong had had crushes on boys before, and Shinwon was always there to make fun of him for it. Hyojong did tend to be a little awkward, at times, mostly because he wasn’t used to talking to people he didn’t already know. So, due to his awkwardness, he could come off as really cold, and even made offhand comments about someone. Usually, he was actually trying to compliment them, by calling them weird, or loud, or unpredictable. A lot of people didn’t really like being called those things, much to Hyojong’s disappointment, so he was essentially being mean to a person he found attractive. It was a hard life to live.

But, still. Shinwon was stupid. “How long has it been since you got laid?” Hyojong asked, with a raise of his eyebrows. “Like, long enough for you to practically be a virgin again, right?”

Wooseok laughed loudly, shaking the man that was on his lap. “You don’t have a whole lot of room to talk about that,” he reminded. Leave it up to Wooseok to know every detail of Hyojong’s lack of a sex life.

“Sure I do,” Hyojong laughed. “It’s been longer for him than it has for me.”

Yuto smiled at his friends, still where he sat in his chair. “I’m so glad I can have sex with my boy whenever I want,” he sighed. As if not getting laid on demand was the worst thing that could possibly happen to someone. Yuto and Kino just had it _too_ good, that was all. A regular couple wouldn’t _have_ to have as much sex as they did, but they didn’t believe in being a normal couple. They probably had sex, like, what? Two to three times a day? Hyojong’s life force would probably sap away with each time. He’d die.

“Has it?” Shinwon asked. They really had a hilarious, bitchy relationship. It was entertaining, to say the least. “Who was the last person you made out with, before that one?” He motioned to Hwitaek, looking at Hyojong challengingly. What a catty bitch, Shinwon was.

And unfortunately, Hyojong knew the answer to his question. He didn’t exactly make out with a whole lot of people, so he could keep track of them pretty easily. His face must have gotten paler, or something, because Shinwon sighed.

“Please don’t tell me it’s who I think it is,” Shinwon groaned. He acted like this whole situation was worse for him than it was for the other two. Which, maybe it was. He was the one who had to watch it, after all.

Hyojong nodded, pursing his lips. “It’s exactly who you think it is,” he said. “We were drunk. It was a mistake.”

Wooseok nodded in agreement. “Trust me, I don’t want to make out with you any more than you want to make out with me. Again.” He shuddered at the memory, which was a bit dramatic, in Hyojong’s opinion. He wasn’t shudder-worthy. Maybe Wooseok didn’t like the way he kissed, but that didn’t mean Hyojong was a _bad_ kisser. Wooseok was just a big fucking baby.

Yanan looked surprised, lips parted, eyes staring right at his boyfriend’s face. He snapped his head to Hyojong. “You made out with Wooseok?” he asked.

Hwitaek quite literally tripped across the room to look down at Hyojong. “You and Wooseok made out?” he practically shouted, looking shocked, in an insane sort of way.

Hyojong felt a tiny bit of pride as to why Hwitaek was so concerned with the subject. “Yeah,” he shrugged, a smile coming onto his lips. “It was a few months back.”

Yuto nodded, grabbing his boyfriend by the wrists, and pulling him down onto his lap. Neither of them even had to look at each other to do that. It was really kind of gross. “It was literally the worst thing we’ve ever had to watch.” Kino nodded happily.

Hwitaek looked like he was about to pass out. “You got to—had to watch?” he squawked. He was looking between all of them, but he kept going back to gaping at Wooseok and Hyojong. It wasn’t totally unbelievable. They’d been such close friends for so long, it was a wonder it took them that long, and a wonder that they’d only made out once. Even though the one time was _definitely_ enough, for the both of them.

Kino happily wriggled on his boyfriend’s lap. “Tell them what happened,” he prompted.

“Great, I get to relive it,” Shinwon grumbled.

“Do I have to?” Hyojong whined. He didn’t want people to hear how utterly embarrassing that while night had been. Everyone nodded, and Hwitaek was practically panting, so he decided to just go with it. “Fine, fine. But please remember that we were totally plastered. Sober Hyojong and Wooseok would not have done this.”

“Not in a million years,” Wooseok agreed.

“Hey,” Hyojong laughed, “I wasn’t that bad.” He smacked the taller man on the arm. “Let me tell the fucking story. Okay, so it was just at one of these bullshit get togethers, like we always have, and Wooseok and I had drank like. Three bottles of soju each. So, we were more than a little fucked up.”

“Like sloppy drunk,” Shinwon said, raising his eyebrows.

Hyojong just nodded. Hwitaek was listening to every word like he needed to know how the story ended, or else he was going to die. It was kind of ridiculous, actually. “Yeah. I was like bullying Shinwon or telling Yuto and Kino to stop making out, and Wooseok was alone on the couch, because he always does that.”

“Does what?” Hwitaek asked curiously. Really, the story wasn’t that exciting. Hyojong was doing a bad job of telling it, and it was just embarrassing.

“Isolates himself,” Hyojong responded. “For some reason, if he gets really drunk, he starts getting pouty and goes off to sit somewhere and nap, or whatever it is he does.” Hyojong had seen this happen many, many times. After two bottles of soju, Wooseok was essentially just an infant, again.

“I nap,” Wooseok said simply, confirming the blond’s words.

“Aw,” Yanan smiled, squishing Wooseok’s face between his hands.

“That _is_ really cute,” Hwitaek cooed. As if anyone had doubted that it was.

Hyojong shrugged. “Uh-huh. I felt bad because, you know, being drunk and sad like that isn’t ideal, so I sat by him.” He held a finger in the air, stopping anyone who was about to stop talking. Shinwon. “ _Which_ , I know, was my first mistake.”

“ _Please_ remind us how you got to sitting next to him, to making out with him.”

“Okay, like I said, I was blasted. Like, gone. I was sitting next to Wooseok, and I put my hand on his leg—”

Shinwon and Yuto made very loud groaning noises. Yanan was horrified that Hyojong had gotten close enough to his man to do something like that. Wooseok looked like he was getting sick. Hwitaek was in absolute shock, and Hyojong wasn’t sure that the rest of this stupid story would make it much better.

“Gross, I know. But I put my hand on his leg, and I looked at him. And you know what I said?” Hyojong laughed at the mere memory of it. He would literally never say something like this when he was sober. And he was willing to say a lot of dumb shit.

Wooseok laughed. “This is literally the only part of that night I remember, besides Hyojong’s poor excuse for a kiss.”

“Watch it.”

Wooseok only laughed louder. Hyojong was not looking forward to everyone having to hear what he’d said. “He literally looked at me for like five minutes, and then he said ‘Wooseokie, if you were a chick, and I wasn’t gay, I would totally make out with you.’ Which, you can see why that’s bad.”

“Oh my god,” Yanan said, looking half mortified, half like he was trying not to laugh.

“Hyojong!” Yuto yelled, scowling at him.

Hyojong was quick to defend himself. “That wasn’t me, that was drunk Hyojong. Dude, I hadn’t gotten laid in like… a _while_.” Close to a year, but he wasn’t going to just _say_ that in front of people like Hwitaek. He wasn’t proud of his lack of sexual activities.

Shinwon shook his head quickly. “After you said that, I can’t believe I’m still friends with you.” Drama queen.

“Wooseok made it worse! Do you know what he said to me, after I uttered that absolute garbage? He said, ‘Hyojong, I’m not a girl. And you are gay. So I guess, if you wanted to, you could make out with me.’ And then I went ‘what? Do you want me to make out with you?’”

Wooseok coughed out a laugh. “This is terrible. I said ‘not really, but neither of us are getting any.’”

“God, please take me out of this cruel world. Take me out of my misery,” Shinwon begged, looking up at Wooseok and Yuto’s ceiling.

“Oh, no,” Yanan whispered, looking at his boyfriend.

Hwitaek, for once in his annoyingly preppy life, was speechless. He was just staring down at Hyojong as if Hyojong had just told him he’d made out with the Queen of England, or something. Wooseok was not the Queen of England. Just a queen. “Then I said ‘I’m not a virgin, you know—'’

Shinwon screamed. Yuto was laughing, his funny high-pitched giggle. Kino was laughing so hard his whole body was red.

“Why would you even _say_ that, dude?” Wooseok asked, laughing. “You know I know you’re not a virgin, why did you have to tell me that right then?”

Hyojong was laughing so hard, his stomach hurt. “Because I was fucking smashed, dude, and you know how I am. Sometimes I just say dumbass bullshit because I want to.”

“Right,” Wooseok laughed, wiping the tears from his eyes. “And then we made out for like ten minutes, and it was the worst make out session I’ve ever had.”

“Was not!” Hyojong argued. “You kiss like you have a mouthful of water, jackass.” Legitimately the wettest kiss Hyojong had ever experienced. He didn’t know a person could salivate that much.

Yanan held Wooseok’s face in his hands, squishing his cheeks cutely. “I like his wet kisses,” he said softly, pecking his boyfriend on the tip of the nose.

Wooseok looked at his boyfriend, a surprised look on his face. “You think I have wet kisses?” he asked, as if he didn’t know he practically held an entire river full of water in his mouth.

“I don’t mind,” Yanan assured, smiling at the darker haired man. “You just have a very…” he cleared his throat, “wet mouth.”

Hyojong cringed. “It was like I was drinking out of a water bottle, but it was actually Wooseok’s huge-ass tongue in my mouth.”

Shinwon gagged, and pat at his forehead with a handkerchief. What a pretentious fuck. “Never, ever, ever, _ever_ say that again. Or I will let myself be hit by the first train I can find.”

“Even so,” Wooseok pouted, “I’d rather make out with a water bottle than make out with you.”

Hwitaek tried to speak, but his voice cracked, so he cleared his throat. His eyebrows were raised impossibly high, his whole expression making him look like he was dehydrated. Thirsty, perhaps. “Why?” he asked Wooseok, his voice soft. He was so invested in everything Wooseok and Hyojong were saying, Hyojong wanted to tell him to snap out of it. It wasn’t that exciting of a story, it was just about two idiot best friends who thought it’d be a good idea to suck each other’s faces down. It wasn’t exactly a thriller.

“Because,” Wooseok said, eyeing Hyojong. He was going to kick his ass if he said something incriminating. “He’s so _mean_ when he kisses.”

Just for the record, Hyojong didn’t think he was a mean kisser. He liked biting a little, and being bitten, but because it felt good, not because he was trying to kill whoever he was kissing. Usually. And he liked to kiss hard and fast, because that was the way he liked to live his life. He didn’t want to take anything slow or gentle, because he got bored very easily, and what was the point of kissing if it didn’t leave you hard and breathless?

“I’m not _mean_ ,” Hyojong said, with a roll of his eyes. Again, Wooseok was just a big baby.

Wooseok scoffed, shaking his head. “Fine. You’re aggressive.” Hyojong would take it. He was an aggressive person, it wasn’t his fault.

Hyojong saw Hwitaek swallow hard. He was definitely avoiding looking at Hyojong. “How?”

Hyojong wanted to ask the red-haired man why the hell it mattered so much. Then, he realized that Hwitaek could potentially be saving up on masturbation material, and Hyojong wouldn’t want to get in the way of that. He was a decent, understanding kid.

Wooseok laughed. “It’s hard to explain. It’s like he was trying to fight me with his mouth, I did not like it at all. He bit me a lot.”

Hwitaek turned to Kino so quickly, Hyojong got dizzy. “Kino, I’ll take that beer you offered me, earlier.” He smiled, sort of a crazy smile that Hyojong actually found rather cute.

Yuto perked up immediately. “Beer?” he asked. He looked at Kino, a charming look on his face. “You wanna get me one, baby?” he asked sweetly. Couples really were another level of gross, weren’t they?

“Sure,” Kino grinned down at his boyfriend. “Anyone else want anything?”

“I could do a soju,” Hyojong shrugged. He hadn’t really gotten lit since way earlier, so he figured a bit of soju couldn’t hurt. Plus, if he was going to get through the night without punching Hwitaek in the face, or fucking him in Wooseok’s bed, he was going to need more than a little help.

“Same,” Wooseok said. Kino nodded happily and turned to leave for the kitchen. As he was passing, Yuto slapped him hard on the ass, earning a wink from his boyfriend. “Gross!” Wooseok shouted, earning a loud giggle from Yuto.

Kino returned, giving his boyfriend a can of beer, and an overly-enthusiastic kiss on the lips. He handed Hwitaek his beer, and handed Hyojong and Wooseok their soju. They all thanked him, but not quite like Yuto did, when he pulled Kino into his lap and started kissing his neck.

Hyojong watched Hwitaek open the can of beer, and put his lips to it so he could drink. He pulled away to look at the brand of the beer, for a moment, smacked his lips together, and kept drinking it. His adams apple bobbed when he swallowed, and his lips came away wet when he stopped drinking. Hyojong must have been looking at Hwitaek like he was about to pass out—which it definitely felt like—because Hwitaek smiled really wide, slightly tilting his head to the side. “It tastes really good.”

Hyojong wanted to suggest something really disgustingly inappropriate, but he was luckily able to keep it to himself. “I like soju better than beer,” he commented. But for whatever reason, that particular beer looked really appetizing. “I’m surprised you’re even drinking.” Surprised wasn’t quite the right word. Aroused, maybe. He was aroused that Hwitaek was drinking beer. That sounded about right.

“Well,” Hwitaek grinned cutely. It was annoying how cute he acted, all the time. It made it hard for Hyojong to remember that he was an attention seeking, preppy, obnoxious, annoying class president, who loved to do homework, and probably hated having fun. “It’s legal, after all. And you told me I should try new things.”

Hyojong pursed his lips. “Again, you shouldn’t do whatever I tell you to.”

“ _Again_ ,” Hwitaek said, narrow brown eyes looking right into Hyojong’s mind. He could probably see every dirty thought, or self-doubt, or wet dream, or hidden desire that Hyojong had ever had. Which, was great, considering the fact that the annoying class president had made his way into all of those categories. “I want to do what you tell me to.”

Hyojong knew that Hwitaek wanting to do what Hyojong told him to do, probably wasn’t meant to be sexual. It was probably supposed to mean that, like, Hwitaek wanted to be friends with Hyojong, or wanted to hang out with he and his friends, or _something_ annoying and platonic. But Hyojong couldn’t help the way his blood seemed to get hotter every time Hwitaek said that. Because he wanted to tell Hwitaek to do so, so many things. And none of them were family friendly.

“Right,” Hyojong said, trying to not think of the way Hwitaek’s full lips were the softest shade of pink, or the way Hwitaek’s eyelashes nearly touched his cheeks when he looked down at Hyojong like this, or the way Hwitaek’s focused gaze made Hyojong want to shove a hand down his pants and get himself off to it. Yeah. He wasn’t going to think about any of that.

Fortunately, Hwitaek turned away quickly to look at where Kino and Yuto were sitting, not even giving Hyojong another glance.

Hyojong narrowed his eyes. He didn’t like the way Hwitaek turned away. He liked when Hwitaek stared at him. He liked knowing that the perfect class president thought he was hot. It was good for his ego.

“Hey, Hyojong,” Wooseok said. Hyojong slowly turned his attention away from Hwitaek, and onto Wooseok’s face. “Wanna light up?”

It was about damned time. The last thing Hyojong had smoked was the weed Yuto had bought to get him here, and he wasn’t really high anymore. Plus, that had been forever ago, Like, an hour or two. He wanted to be high again. He was ready to be stoned out of his mind. “I thought you’d never ask, Hyojong said, practically leaping off of the couch. “I’ll get the bud.” He went into Wooseok’s room, and reached on top of his dresser, where Wooseok always kept his pipe and grinder. He was really just happy to get high with his best friend. He liked smoking with Wooseok, it made it more fun than being alone.

He stopped moving completely, though, when his eyes grazed the impossible. There was a large box of condoms sitting right on top of Wooseok’s dresser, in front of where his pipe sat. “Holy hell,” Hyojong said to himself, slowly picking the box up. It felt empty. Maybe he was hallucinating. There was no way a king size box of condoms was sitting on pure, baby Wooseok’s dresser. Hyojong, watching with wide eyes, turned the box up-side-down. One, sad condom fell out, landing right on top of the dresser. “ _Holy hell_.”

Wooseok’s bedroom door opened, Wooseok standing in the doorway, as if he’d thought of something urgent. “Wait, Hyojong, don’t—”

Hyojong turned towards him slowly, condom box still in hand. His mouth and eyes were wide. Sweet, schoolboy Wooseok. Swept into the sexual urges of a hot, mature blond. “Wooseok.”

“Oh my god,” Wooseok groaned. “Please put that down.” Hyojong took a deep breath, about to yell at his best friend. “Don’t shout, don’t shout,” Wooseok begged quickly, shutting his door behind him.

“Are you having sex?” Hyojong whisper-yelled, looking up at the younger man. “With Yanan?”

Wooseok made a show of rolling his eyes. “No, I’m having sex with Yuto.” And before Hyojong could take anything too literally: “Of course I’m having sex with Yanan.” He took the box from Hyojong, and threw it in his closet. “Don’t say anything about it, though. Please.”

“Why not?” Hyojong pouted. He wanted to expose Wooseok. Damn him for knowing Hyojong so well. “Don’t the others already know?”

Wooseok looked at the floor. “No, I’ll tell them later. I don’t want to embarrass Yanan.”

Hyojong clapped him on the back. “Well, I guess that means you have to stop sleeping with him, huh?”

The taller man laughed, shaking his head. “Please, don’t bring it up.”

Hyojong sighed. “You know I _really_ love embarrassing people,” he said. Especially his friends. He loved getting them all embarrassed and shy—it was hilarious.

“You know I _really_ want to tell Hui how much you want to fuck him,” Wooseok responded, eyebrows raised daringly.

Hyojong’s eyes widened. “You dirty bastard,” he laughed. “I wasn’t going to say anything, anyway. Way to shut me up.”

Wooseok just shrugged. “I have to do what I have to do.”

“Since when have _you_ been getting laid?” Hyojong asked, eyes narrowed. As far as he knew, Wooseok and Yanan were still in their cute, awkward phase. Hyojong had certainly missed a bit of information, there.

“Like a month, dude. Since our third date. I was going to tell you, but you were so wrapped up with Hwitaek, it just never happened.”

“Oh,” Hyojong said. That only made him kind of feel like shit. “I’m sorry.” Sometimes, Hyojong just got so in his own head, he couldn’t pay attention to anything else. He’d gotten so distracted with hating and kissing and hating Hwitaek, that he hadn’t paid attention to a single thing that was happening outside of that. Sometimes he was just a shitty friend. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Wooseok said. “I get it.”

Hyojong grabbed Wooseok’s arm, shaking it excitedly. “I’m proud of you,” he squawked. “I can’t believe _you’re_ getting laid, and I’m not.” Not that Wooseok was inexperienced, or unattractive, or anything like that. He was just _so_ quiet and awkward, and Yanan was ten times worse. It was a wonder they ever stopped being awkward, enough to have sex. “Kids these days move so fast.”

Wooseok clapped Hyojong on the back, practically killing the smaller man. “You _could_ be getting some, you know.” He started moving towards his door. “Like, you wouldn’t even have to try.”

Hyojong grabbed the pipe off of Wooseok’s dresser, steering clear of the lone condom. “Are you talking about Hwitaek?” he sighed. At this point, Hyojong would do anything to _avoid_ talking about having sex with Hwitaek.

“ _Yes_. Seriously, Hyojong, just sleep with him. You could probably just drop your pants and he’d be on you. You shouldn’t not sleep with him, just because he’s the class president. It’s a stupid excuse. It’s getting kind of pathetic seeing you two thirst over each other. It’s like I’m watching some really awful, never ending foreplay. ”

“I’m not thirsting over him,” Hyojong insisted. “I really don’t like him, and I don’t want to sleep with him. All he does is piss me off.”

“Alright,” Wooseok sighed. “But when you do— _if_ you end up sleeping with him, you have to tell me right away, okay? I should have told you when I slept with Yanan.”

Hyojong frowned. “I won’t ever be sleeping with Hwitaek.”

“Fine,” Wooseok gave up. “Whatever.”

Hyojong nudged him in the side. “Extra-large, though? Yanan has it pretty good, doesn’t he?”

“ _Please stop_ ,” Wooseok groaned. He opened the door to his room, letting Hyojong walk out in front of him.

“Really,” Hyojong said, smirking at the taller man. “I’m impressed.”

Wooseok pouted. “Let’s just smoke, _please_.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment telling me how you feel about this chapter! I don't know if my writing is funny, or anything, so I'd love your feedback! Any comments are appreciated ^^
> 
> Instagram: hypjpng
> 
> Tumblr: [edawnings](https://edawnings.tumblr.com)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all!
> 
> This is literally the only chapter that I've ever posted on time, and will probably ever post on time. It's a bit short and slightly uneventful, but I really like this chapter.
> 
> I hope you do, as well!
> 
> Enjoy!!

For some reason, Hwitaek kept showing up wherever Hyojong was.

Probably because they had class together; but still. That didn’t mean that Hwitaek had to _sit_ next to him. He still thought they were friends. It was Hyojong’s fault for coming to class on time, anyway.

“Hey, Hyojong,” Hwitaek smiled, sitting in the chair next to Hyojong. He was a hell of a lot closer than Hyojong wanted him to be. Hyojong glanced up at Hwitaek, but went on looking at his phone, like he had been before. He and Hwitaek weren’t at the point where Hyojong would look at him. He hoped they would never be at that point. “Everything is alright between us, right?”

“You asked this already,” Hyojong said quickly, in replacement of ‘ _no, it’s not alright, because I still don’t like you_.’ Even if Hwitaek _had_ hung out with them, and even if he hadn’t been one-hundred percent obnoxious, he was still Hwitaek. He wasn’t Hyojong’s type of person. That wasn’t going to change.

It was only kind of cute when Hwitaek got whiny. It was mostly just annoying. “I _know_ I already asked, but I have to check again. I need updates.”

Hyojong lazily looked up from his phone, at the other man. “Why wouldn’t it be?” he asked. That ought to please Hwitaek enough for him to not bring up the kiss, or anything regarding the subject. They’d already had their stupid talk about it, and their friends had already brought it up as much as they possibly could. Hyojong knew they kissed. He knew it was awkward. He didn’t need to be reminded every half hour.

As expected, Hwitaek gave a cheerful smile and nod. “Good,” he said, giving a sigh of relief. “I really like being your friend.”

Hyojong really wished he would stop saying his name like that. _Hyojong_. Each letter perfectly enunciated, lips wrapping around the vowels. He didn’t have to say Hyojong’s name like Hyojong was some luxury brand. He was just some shitty kid who wanted to be left alone. Hwitaek didn’t have to put so much _energy_ into saying his name. They weren’t close enough for Hwitaek to say his name in such a familiar, chilling way.

Hyojong grunted a response, eyes glued to the screen of his phone.

“You know,” Hwitaek started, “we should probably get to work on our own project. I did a little bit of research, but I can’t really do the rest without you.” He pat Hyojong on the top of his thigh, so briefly Hyojong almost didn’t catch it. Just a friendly gesture.

“Should we?” Hyojong asked. He was ignoring the way he could still feel the tingle of Hwitaek’s hand on his thigh, even though he was no longer touching him. It was annoying, sometimes, how easily Hyojong’s body could be affected by Hwitaek. Even if he didn’t care what Hwitaek did, or how he touched him or _whatever_ , Hyojong’s body still got excited, still acknowledged every point of contact. It was really getting on Hyojong’s nerves.

“Yes,” Hwitaek insisted. “I really need you to build the model, so we can continue with the experiment.”

Hyojong looked at Hwitaek out of the side of his eyes. “As I’ve said, you should just do the project. I don’t want to do it.” Usually, Hwitaek had his hair styled sort of away from his face, and back. Today, his hair was limp and hanging over his forehead, right above his eyes. It was shiny, even in the shitty fluorescent lights of their classroom. Somehow, it made his features look less angular. Like, his cheeks looked way rounder and squishier.

“I can’t do it by myself,” Hwitaek said, shaking his head. He smacked Hyojong on the arm, and Hyojong briefly wondered if Hwitaek had a death wish. “I can’t do that part by myself. _Please_ help?” He used an obnoxiously cute voice, pouting at Hyojong.

Holy fuck, Hyojong wished that wasn’t so _cute_. Pouty, cutesy stuff, really should not have worked on Hyojong as well as it did. He liked cute things, but this was too much. He sighed. “ _Fine_.” Damn Hyojong’s weakness for all things soft and adorable.

“Great,” Hwitaek said enthusiastically. “You can come over to my place, or I can go over to yours, or… whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Hyojong shrugged. He didn’t really wanted to be alone with Hwitaek, so maybe they could do it at Wooseok and Yuto’s dorm. He didn’t want Hwitaek to go off talking about their ‘friendship,’ or whatever he called it. Hyojong also didn’t want to be alone with Hwitaek, because he didn’t know what either of them would do. Hyojong probably wasn’t supposed to stick his tongue down Hwitaek’s throat, now that they’d gotten past the first time he’d done that. They weren’t supposed to touch each other, or anything.

And let’s face it, that wasn’t how Hyojong wanted to live. Hwitaek was hot. He really _did_ want to stick his tongue down Hwitaek’s throat again, even though he knew he’d regret it, and he knew how much distress it had caused the last time. The more he had thought about how he now _couldn’t_ kiss Hwitaek, the more he wanted to. He had this thing, where if someone told him to do something, he wouldn’t want to do it. And vice versa. If someone told him there was something he couldn’t do, or couldn’t have, he’d want it even more. And right now, it was Hwitaek. Right now, every single thing in his life was telling Hyojong to not do anything with Hwitaek. And he didn’t want to listen.

“Anything works for me,” Hwitaek smiled. His eyes creased into crescents, wide smile directed at the blond. He was honestly too friendly to Hyojong. Hyojong wasn’t nice to Hwitaek; he didn’t deserve the kindness. He didn’t _want_ it, anyway. It was irritating, how sociable Hwitaek was. Hyojong didn’t talk to any of his stupid classmates for a reason. And it wasn’t for some red head to try to be his friend. “I know you don’t believe me, but I really do think this project is going to be fun.”

The last time their project was supposed to be fun, they’d gotten high and made out. Hyojong didn’t want a repeat of events. I’m not too sure about that.” Their class started, so Hyojong made a point of turning towards the front. As in, he was finished talking to Hwitaek.

Hwitaek was still smiling at Hyojong. How bothersome. He put his hand on the blond’s thigh and squeezed gently. “We’ll make it fun.” A friendly gesture. Really high up on Hyojong’s thigh. Totally platonic. It wasn’t distracting. Hyojong’s pants only got a tiny bit tighter.

“Not possible,” Hyojong muttered. He didn’t even know why he was entertaining Hwitaek by conversing with him. Hyojong hated conversing.

Hwitaek laughed loudly, pressing his shoulder against Hyojong’s. The professor shot them a look, Hwitaek apologizing quickly. Hyojong laughed, at that. The professor shot them another look towards them, but Hyojong couldn’t care to stop laughing. Hwitaek was so predictable and obedient, it was hilarious. Of _course_ he’d apologize and shut up as soon as th professor looked at him. What a model student thing to do.

Hwitaek leaned closer to Hyojong, his whole body pressed against the blond’s. “I wasn’t even being that loud,” Hwitaek whispered. Loudly. He sat close to Hyojong, as if they were friends. Hyojong hated school.

The blond chuckled. “Yes, you were.” Hwitaek was right—he really sucked at talking quietly. Even when he whispered, he was more or less yelling. His laugh was about the loudest laugh Hyojong had ever heard, and there was no way for it to be louder, even if Hwitaek chose to just shout, instead.

The class was in session, now, and Hyojong would have known what it was about, if it hadn’t been for the annoyingly loud redhead at his side. Hwitaek kept leaning over to ask ‘am I talking loud, now?’ to which the answer was always yes. And then Hwitaek would laugh, because _he_ didn’t think he was talking loud. Hyojong would tell him to shut up, but it was already too late, because the professor was eyeing them like they’d just tried to burn the school down. Hwitaek, of course, would nod quickly and apologize for the hundredth time. And Hyojong would laugh, because this kid was either really oblivious, or he really didn’t care. Either way, Hwitaek repeated that entire thing a few more times, and he got touchier and touchier with Hyojong each time.

Hyojong would laugh, so Hwitaek would laugh, which meant he was leaning all the way into his lap. Unnecessary, but whatever. His hand would come up to touch _way_ to high up on Hyojong’s thigh, or slightly squeeze his bicep, or do _something_ that made Hyojong’s body want to get hard in the middle of a stupid fucking chemistry class.

Hyojong wasn’t sure, but it sure as hell felt like Hwitaek was flirting with him. All the fleeting touches on his legs, and leaning into him, and laughing at everything he said, even when it wasn’t funny. Which was often. Hyojong didn’t know a lot about that type of thing, but weren’t all those things, like, the essentials of flirting? It wasn’t _entirely_ unwelcome, but it mostly was.

“We only have a couple weeks to finish the project, now,” Hwitaek said, as soon as the class ended. Literally, as soon as the professor called it, Hwitaek spoke. As if he hadn’t talked enough during the class. He didn’t even give Hyojong a chance to stand, or wake up. Extroverts really confused the shit out of Hyojong.

Hyojong stood up, stretching his arms above his head, very aware of the way Hwitaek’s eyes found Hyojong’s skin, as soon as the hem of his shirt lifted up. “How much do we have done?”

“We have our idea,” Hwitaek said. “And I’ve started the research paper, but I can’t really do much until we do the model and find the statistics. I’ve found a little bit of the statistics, but I really need you to help me.” His nose wrinkled with his smile. “And, no, I won’t do all of the work for you. I’ve already done some of it.”

They started out the door, Hwitaek following him like the puppy that he was. Hyojong just wanted to go home alone. “When is it due?” Hwitaek had told him, at some point or another, but he’d forgotten, since he didn’t really care.

“Two weeks. I know you don’t want to do it, but I’d really like your help, and we’ve already lost a lot of time not working on it.” Hwitaek held onto the straps of his backpack, like an excited elementary schooler. “It’s a big part of our grade, and we have to show that we worked together. I don’t think I can fake your work, and I don’t want to, anyway, because this is a _group_ project, and I’m glad we get to work together. If you could just help out a _little_ but, we could do a really great job, and—”

Fucking hell, Hwitaek talked _so much_. “Fine,” he said quickly, before Hwitaek continued talking. A normal person would have run out of breath, or words, for that matter. “Can I just do a poster?”

Hwitaek visibly pouted. “I wanted our project to be _impactful_ ,” he said.

“Yeah, I know,” Hyojong huffed. “Don’t you think it’ll be ‘impactful’ enough, if we tell them that they’re going to fucking kill themselves by smoking cigarettes.” You’d think they’d get the message. Hwitaek didn’t have to take their project so seriously.

“Would that stop you?” He looked unusually serious, challenging Hyojong.

Hyojong wasn’t really sure why he felt like he was going to get a boner. “ _No_ , but I _already_ smoke. Besides, I don’t even smoke cigarettes that often.”

Hwitaek crossed his arms. “Okay, well, I’m sure some of them _also_ already smoke. And if you wouldn’t stop, neither would they.”

Hyojong snorted. “I don’t know about that. I’m a bit more stubborn than a lot of people.”

“No, _really_?” Hwitaek said sarcastically.

Hyojong laughed loudly. Hwitaek was so funny and cute when he was being sarcastic and arguable. It was kind of hot, really, that the preppy class president could muster up the courage to argue with someone like Hyojong. “You’ve noticed?” Hyojong asked. He wasn’t sure, but it kind of felt like he was flirting with Hwitaek. Not on purpose. Shit happened.

Hwitaek narrowed his eyes and smiled at Hyojong. “A bit.” Truth be told, Hyojong was a little turned on. “ _Anyway_ , a poster isn’t going to get the message across.”

“Why do we even have to have a message?” Hyojong asked, annoyed. “It’s just a stupid science project, I just want the fucking grade. We don’t _have_ to make our project impactful, it’s just a class.” They didn’t need to change lives, or whatever Hwitaek was wanting to do. That wasn’t part of the project’s description.

Hwitaek looked irritated, arms crossed over his chest, narrow hip jutted out to the side. He rolled his eyes. “Because I _care_ about people, and I want them to know what they’re doing to their bodies.”

The way Hwitaek rolled his eyes was really doing things for what was in Hyojong’s pants. Hyojong scoffed out a laugh. “Do you really think that people who smoke don’t know it’s bad for them? It’s no secret that cigarettes are bad for you.”

Hwitaek pouted. “Then why do people do it?”

The blond shook his head. “Look, sweetheart,” _he did not mean to say that_ , “you wouldn’t get it, because you don’t smoke. We don’t have to try to make a difference, the project is just for a grade.”

Hwitaek perked up a little. Hyojong couldn’t imagine why. “I just don’t understand.”

Hyojong stopped walking. It was time for him to walk to his car, and he wanted to do it alone. “I know.” He took his jacket off, hanging it over an arm. Partially because it was too hot to wear a jacket, but mostly because he thought it would shut Hwitaek up. “Can I just do a poster?” He crossed his arms, smirking at the way Hwitaek’s eyes briefly widened, following Hyojong’s biceps.

Hwitaek swallowed, looking over Hyojong’s jacketless torso. “Uh.” Hwitaek very slowly brought his gaze back up to Hyojong’s face. “I guess. You can do a poster, if you really want to.” He swallowed hard.

“It’ll be quicker,” Hyojong smiled. “And easier.”

Hwitaek nodded quickly. This whole situation really was flattering. “I suppose so.” He was still shifting between looking at Hyojong’s face, and his body. Hyojong didn’t think his body was _that_ nice. But Hwitaek looked thoroughly dehydrated, and that was enough to boost his ego until the day he died. “Do you want to get together this week, and work on it?”

Hyojong shrugged. _No he did not_. “I guess.” He was really starting to wonder why he had such a hard time refusing Hwitaek. Sure, he was hot, but Hyojong was normally _so_ good at saying no to everything.

“Where”? the red-haired man asked. His skin looked really nice in the sun. Bright and warm. He had really smooth skin, it wasn’t fair to the rest of the college population. No one in their twenties was supposed to be able to have skin that nice. It was like honey. Smooth, and rich, and sticky in the way that made you want to touch it forever. In the way that made you want to put your tongue against it and taste it.

Hyojong started backing away. “Don’t know. I’ll text you about it. I gotta get going.” He didn’t _have_ to, per say. He just didn’t want to… stick around. Hwitaek made his brain feel like he’d been baked in the sun four hours. It wasn’t a good thing. It was confusing, and blurry, and Hyojong didn’t understand it.

Hwitaek smiled. “I’ll see you soon, then, Hyojong.”

Hyojong really did have a pleasant-sounding name, didn’t he? It just sounded nice to listen to. “Right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment telling me how you feel about this chapter! I don't know if my writing is funny, or fun to read, or anything like that, so I'd love your feedback! Any comments are appreciated ^^
> 
> Instagram: hypjpng
> 
> Tumblr: [edawnings](https://edawnings.tumblr.com/)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all!
> 
> So I'm really going to try to post a new chapter every Friday! If it doesn't happen, I'm sorry, but I will do my best!!
> 
> This chapter is short, but I think it's fun, and I hope you do too.
> 
> Thank you, and enjoy!

“Do you think we need to use that many colours?” Hwitaek asked, leaning over Hyojong’s shoulder.

Hyojong was sitting on the floor of Hwitaek’s living room, his legs spread out to the sides, so he could work on the poster. Hwitaek, also known as the devil himself, had convinced Hyojong to come over to his ridiculously fancy dorm, and work on their stupid, awful science project. They’d mutually decided that Hwitaek’s living room was the best place to work on it, since last time in Hwitaek’s room hadn’t gone as planned. He wasn’t sure he could hold back from boning Hwitaek, if they were alone in his annoyingly neat room, again. So, they were in the middle of the living room, Hwitaek perched on the edge of the couch with his laptop in his lap, Hyojong spread across the floor so he could write on the poster. It was one of those obnoxiously large, three-way posters—Hwitaek had picked it out. If it had been up to Hyojong, he would have just used a piece of printer paper. But, of course, Hwitaek felt the need to more than required, so he’d bought a poster than was damned near the size of the two of them.

Hyojong, at the moment, was using a pink pen to scribble some data or statistics or whatever bullshit Hwitaek had told him to write down. Hwitaek had _insisted_ they have pictures, so Hyojong had spent a good hour or so gluing pictures of nasty ass lungs onto the poster. He was just writing whatever Hwitaek told him to, wherever he told him to, because he wanted to get out of Hwitaek’s fancy dorm as soon as he could. The only way he could make this fun for himself, was using the entire array of coloured pens Hwitaek had provided.

Hyojong turned his neck to look at Hyojong, who was staring down at the poster. “Why? Do you not like it?” Not that he cared whether Hwitaek liked it, or not. He just didn’t want to have to do more work that he already had to do. Besides, the poster was colourful. It looked fine.

The corners of Hwitaek’s mouth turned down, and he gave a small tilt of his head. Hwitaek was wearing a baggy sweatshirt and jeans, but for some reason, it made him look _so_ good. He looked less like the annoyingly peppy class president, and more like a regular human being with regular human tendencies. His hair was really faded, so it looked like more of a salmon colour than anything, but it didn’t look bad. He didn’t style it either, so it was hanging down on his forehead in the way that Hyojong thought made him look extra squishy. It was nice, seeing Hwitaek look like a human, instead of the robotic model student. “No,” he chirped. “It’s fine.”

Hyojong rolled his eyes. “Don’t lie.” Hwitaek _was_ really bad at hiding his feelings. He needed to work on that.

“I’m not lying,” Hwitaek said, in the same overly-friendly, birdlike tone. “I think it looks fine.” He gave a shrug. “It’s just really colourful, that’s all. I didn’t expect it. Why did you draw a flower in the corner?”

Hyojong looked down at the daisy he’d drawn when he was waiting for Hwitaek to print out more pictures. “I don’t know. I thought the poster looked boring without it. Just cover it with another diagram, or something, if you don’t like it.” Seriously, if Hwitaek didn’t like the way Hyojong was doing things, he should have done the project by himself. Like Hyojong had told him to do, over a hundred times.

Hwitaek was smiling his fake smile, with his lips pressed tight together, stretched across his face. He looked stressed, like Hyojong trying to make the poster look anything but plain white was giving him anxiety. It was annoying to Hyojong, that he knew what Hwitaek looked like when he was stressed, or faking a smile. He wasn’t supposed to know the mannerisms of the class president. It was stressing _Hyojong_ out. “No, I like it,” the red haired man said quickly. “I just didn’t take you for the type of person to add a lot of colour to things.”

Hyojong raised his eyebrows. “Maybe you shouldn’t be so quick to make assumptions about people.” Hyojong got that he dressed like he liked to light things on fire. He understood that he was intimidating to a lot of people, just because he didn’t like strangers. But that didn’t mean he wanted their dumb project to look as boring as it could possible be. He liked making thing something other than plain. He thought everything needed some sort of decoration, if it was going to be interesting.

Hwitaek smiled, the real one, this time. “I guess I shouldn’t. You are a lot different than I thought you’d be.”

He didn’t think he was _a lot_ different than he looked. Hwitaek didn’t know him well enough to be able to tell, anyway. All Hwitaek knew was what Hyojong _let_ him know. “What do you mean?” Hyojong stopped working on the poster to turn at look at Hwitaek. Hwitaek acted like he’d known Hyojong for a long time, or that he and Hyojong had had long talks about themselves, or that they knew each other past being classmates who made out once.

Hwitaek cocked his head to the side, eyes glued to Hyojong’s face. He was still smiling, as always. “I thought you were going to be more intimidating.”

Hyojong scowled, and turned his body all the way around, so he was facing the red-haired man. “You don’t think I’m intimidating?” Well. That would sure explain a lot about Hwitaek. Why he was never afraid to argue with Hyojong, or say exactly what was on his mind, or corner Hyojong so he could bother him about one thing or another. Hyojong wasn’t used to people not being at least a little intimidated by him. Especially someone so cheerful and opposite of him. Usually all the ‘good kids’ were terrified of Hyojong.

Hwitaek’s smile lit up the whole room. Not even because of Hyojong’s personal—and irritating—attraction to him. His smile was just so blinding, and happy, that it made the whole room feel like it was full of lightbulbs. “Not at all,” he said lightly. “At first, you looked intimidating, but you’re not like that at all.”

Hyojong may have been pouting, a little. “What am I like, then?”

A hand reached out, and pat Hyojong on the top of his head. Like he was some sort of idiot dog, or something. He didn’t know what it was with these preppy people, and acting like they were better than everyone else. He knew Hwitaek probably wasn’t _trying_ to act malicious, or ill-intentioned—that wasn’t the type of person he was—but it was annoying nonetheless. Hwitaek looked down at Hyojong like he was a little kid, or something. It was really starting to get on Hyojong’s nerves, until: “You’re cute.”

It was so genuine, coming from Hwitaek. It was so clear that he _actually_ thought that Hyojong was cute. He wasn’t just saying it for shits and giggles, or just to get Hyojong worked up. Even though Hyojong most _definitely_ was getting worked up. He could feel heat enveloping his entire body, and creeping it’s way up to his neck. If he blushed at such a ridiculous compliment from such a ridiculous person, he was going to have to leave the country. He wasn’t being dramatic, either. He was being realistic.

He cleared his throat for a good thirty seconds, or so, before he could coherently put together a sentence. He was absolutely the weakest idiot on the planet. He wished he could dig a hole right under Hwitaek’s dorm, and let himself die down there, so he didn’t have a chance to embarrass himself above ground, again. “You know,” he said. He was trying to sound like he wasn’t bothered by anything that had just happened. He _wasn’t_ bothered by anything that had just happened. He was cool. Chic. He was Hyojong. No pretty boy redhead was going to get him all flustered. “Most people think I’m intimidating.” He stood, just so he could look down at Hwitaek. He needed to have the upper hand on things, again. He needed to collect himself and stop being such a little bitch.

Hwitaek stood, too, though, and ruined the whole thing. Because he was standing a _hell_ of a lot closer to Hyojong than the blond was prepared for. Hyojong could see how smooth his skin really was, and the pleasant roundness of his eyes. He could see the tiny fine lines in his lips, and the way they completely disappeared when he smiled. He was really, _really_ close. And Hyojong was doing everything in his power to not get distracted by the fact.

“I’m not,” Hwitaek said, his voice soft. He looked fully unbothered by how close they were standing. He still thought Hyojong was hot, right? He had to at least be a _little_ affected, even if he was really good at hiding it. Unless Hwitaek didn’t think Hyojong was hot, anymore. Which was fine. Hyojong didn’t care whether he was, or not. It would just be a let down to be the only one feeling so weak and turned on. That was all.

Hyojong smiled, just enough for his eyes to narrow, and the corners of his lips to turn up. “Why not?”

Hwitaek meticulously picked a piece of cat hair off of Hyojong’s shirt, and let his eyes wander around Hyojong’s chest, before coming back up to Hyojong’s face. “I don’t know, Hyojong,” he said, watching the other man. “I don’t think you’re as scary as you think you are. I think you’re nice.”

Hyojong scoffed loudly. “I’m not _nice_.” He _knew_ he wasn’t. He’d never been purposefully nice to Hwitaek in his entire life. He didn’t like being nice. He wanted to yell at Hwitaek and tell him how delusional he was. He also wanted to bend Hwitaek over the couch, and show him just how nice he wasn’t.

Hwitaek sighed, his pink lips stretched out into an amused smile. “You’re right, Hyojong. You’re not nice. You’re mean, and rough, and tough, and I’m genuinely intimidated by you.”

Hyojong pursed his lips. “Right.” He took a few steps back from Hwitaek, and narrowed his eyes. He didn’t appreciate being mocked. “Let’s finish this some other day. I gotta get going.”

Hwitaek’s eyebrows knit. “I didn’t mean to offend you.” He followed Hyojong as the blond moved to slip his shoes on. He put his hand on Hyojong’s shoulder. “I’m just saying, you’re always nice to me. You should take it as a compliment.” His little smile was so cute, Hyojong almost accepted it and did whatever Hwitaek wanted him to. Annoying.

Hyojong shook his head. “I should get going, anyway. I have plans with Wooseok.” They were planning on getting super high and walking around the neighborhood to pet cats. It was the perfect date, if you asked Hyojong. His best friend really knew how to treat a dude.

“Okay,” Hwitaek sighed. “I’ll text you, I guess?” They always texted about their stupid science project. Hyojong didn’t care about the class, anymore. He never really did. But ever since he knew he’d gotten paired up with the worlds loudest, most annoying class president, he _really_ didn’t give a shit about it. He was over it.

“Right.” Hyojong pushed his hair out of his face, and opened the front door of Hwitaek’s dorm. He stood there, for a minute, looking at the way Hwitaek was in front of him. His faded hair was shiny, as always, his lips plush, his skin tanned and unblemished. He looked soft, to the point that it made Hyojong’s vision fuzzy. He was too fucking good looking, for who he was. It really wasn’t fair, to people like Hyojong. Weak people. Hyojong crossed his arms over his chest. “And I don’t want to be nice, anyway.”

Hwitaek nodded, and slid his hand off of Hyojong’s shoulder. It didn’t leave Hyojong’s arm until it slid all the way down his arm, and then dropped to his side. “I like that you’re nice,” he shrugged. “I think your unexpected personality is really cute, and I like it.” _Don’t get flustered by the compliment, don’t get flustered_. Fuck. Hyojong was getting hard. From a fucking compliment. He really needed to rethink everything he was as a person. And then put a stop to it. “It’s cute. You’re cute.”

Hyojong swallowed hard, and raised his eyebrows so high, he thought he was going to faint. Fucking dumb ass compliment-loving son of a stupid bitch, Hyojong. Fuck. “Thanks?” he squeaked. Like a flustered, prepubescent girl who had just screamed her eyes out over some fucking boyband. That’s how annoyingly pathetic Hyojong was. He cleared his throat, and made sure to lower his voice an octave, or so. For his pride. It was all he had, at this point. “I wanna be mean.”

Hwitaek bit his lip, and swayed his shoulders. Hyojong was most definitely having some sort of bad, drug-infused hallucination. He hoped to die, soon. “I wouldn’t mind if you were mean.”

Hyojong tried to smile, but he was sure he looked more like he was panicking. Because he was. “Bye,” he blurted out, in an attempt to save himself. He wouldn’t last, here. He wasn’t strong enough. He was a flower boy who liked flower things and could _not_ handle Hwitaek being provocative. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

Hwitaek gave a cute, short laugh, and grinned at Hyojong so wide, his face could have split in half. “Okay! I’ll see you whenever.”

“Yeah,” Hyojong said, already closing the door between he and Hwitaek. He practically ran to his car. Too much Hwitaek for one day.

He was definitely going to need some alone time, before he could go out in public. Hwitaek had too much of an effect on Hyojong’s body.

He sighed loudly, as soon as he was in his car.

At least rubbing one out wouldn’t take too long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment telling me how you feel about this chapter! I don't know if my writing is funny, or fun to read, or anything like that, so I'd love your feedback! Any comments are appreciated ^^
> 
> Instagram: hypjpng


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all!
> 
> I'm updating on time, once again! This chapter is the longest I've written yet, and rather eventful, in a way, so I hope you all enjoy it!
> 
> Also, a huge happy birthday to the love of my life, Kim Hyojong! I'm so thankful to be able to experience all of his talent, and I really love everything that he does. I really hope he had the best birthday ever, because he deserves it!
> 
> Thank you!

“Come in,” Hyojong said, stepping away from the door.

Hwitaek had—unsurprisingly—shown up at Hyojong’s apartment about half an hour early. It was the first time Hwitaek had been to Hyojong’s apartment, and he looked amazed. Also really good. But the point was that he looked amazed.

“I like it,” Hwitaek smiled, eyes locking onto Hyojong’s. “Your apartment is nice.” He shut the door behind himself, looking around the small, dimly lit living room. His jeans were _far_ tighter than Hyojong thought they ought to have been, and they accentuated the narrowness of his hips. His legs looked this, in a way that made it hard for Hyojong to look back up at his face.

Hyojong shrugged. “Your dorm is literally like ten times nicer.” Hwitaek’s dorm was like a palace, in comparison to Hyojong’s dingy dorm. All of Hyojong’s furniture smelled like weed, and it was too small for all of his friends to fit in comfortably. IT looked like a bunch of college-aged men lived in it. And only one did.

“Yeah,” Hwitaek shrugged back. A wide smile spread over his face. “But this is _yours_.” His hand came up to squeeze at the back of Hyojong’s arm excitedly. He looked thrilled to be at Hyojong’s apartment, regardless of how out of place he looked. It made Hyojong feel a _little bit_ , like it would have been easy to pet the top of his head.

Really, Hwitaek did not look like he belonged in this apartment. Hyojong’s dorm was bland, and beige, save for the plants sitting on the window sills. Truthfully, Hwitaek looked more akin to the plants. Hwitaek was shiny, with his coloured hair, and his healthy, honey-toned skin. His shirt was bright blue, and his teeth a clean white. He was all fun colours, constructed in the prettiest way. He stood out from Hyojong’s apartment so much, it reminded Hyojong of how much they differed, and why Hyojong disliked him as much as he did. Because Hwitaek was the class president, standing in Hyojong’s piece of shit apartment.

“Are your friends coming?” Hyojong asked, still staring at Hwitaek. While texting Hwitaek the other day, Hwitaek had whined about Hyojong never meeting his friends. To shut him up, Hyojong told him to just invited him to this hangout, since he apparently had no self respect and loved his apartment being filled to the brim.

“Yeah, they’ll probably be late,” he grinned. Hyojong liked the way Hwitaek tilted his head to the side when he smiled really wide. It made him look cute.

“You look good,” Hyojong blurted, before he could stop himself. If he had just _one_ more second to think things through, he wouldn’t have said it. Of course he had to just go and say whatever dumbass bullshit think was on his mind. Fucking hell. But Hwitaek did look good. Clean, and pretty, and shiny. Just… good.

Hwitaek stopped moving, his lips forming a small, surprised circle. “Oh,” he said, his cheeks flushing pink. Hyojong had never seen the other man look so surprised. It was endearing. “Thanks.” His grin spread impossibly wider, making his cheeks look even rounder. 

Hyojong didn’t know what the hell was wrong with him, but he wanted to poke those cheeks. He really had to stop thinking Hwitaek’s cheeks were so cute. It was going to cause problems, in the future. He just shrugged, instead, trying to not smile at Hwitaek’s cuteness. “Yeah,” he said, turning away so he didn’t have to look at Hwitaek anymore. Class presidents were terrible. Terribly cute. “Want anything? I have beer, soju, all of the hard liquors, and weed. And, like, water and normal stuff.” He looked at Hwitaek, who was still pink. “Unless you’re not drinking or smoking anything, because you’re such a good kid.” It was annoying, how important following rules was, to Hwitaek.

Hwitaek cocked his head to the side. “Thanks, but I’m not sure I should.”

The blond crossed his arms over his chest. “You always say that.”

Hwitaek followed Hyojong as he moved to the refrigerator. “Well, I have to drive back to campus, later. And I’ve never really drank, before.”

“You’ve smoked,” Hyojong reminded quickly. He remembered the way Hwitaek’s plump lips wrapped around the blunt. And the way Hwitaek’s hands touched at his thighs and neck. Was Hyojong sweating?

Hwitaek pursed his lips. “Okay, but I’m not used to doing stuff like that. I’m not like you.”

Hyojong laughed. “No shit.” He and Hwitaek couldn’t be any more different. “What, are you underage, or something? What’s the big deal?” Hwitaek acted like getting wasted was the worst thing he could possibly do.

“What?” Hwitaek scoffed. He shook his head quickly. “No, I’m older than you. I’m twenty four. I just don’t know if I’m the type of person who does that sort of thing.”

Hyojong shook his head, his hair flowing around his face. “Look, if you’re worried about driving, don’t be. I’m sure Shinwon could drive you home, or you could stay the night.” The others always stayed the night. Just because Hwitaek was exponentially hotter than them, didn’t mean he wasn’t welcome. He was annoying, sure, but anyone was allowed at Hyojong’s place. He once kept three stray cats in his apartment, just because they liked staying with him. He wasn’t exactly strict.

“It’s not just that—”

Getting through to this kid was proving to be a lot more difficult than Hyojong had wanted it to be. “Just _try_ something. You tried weed, and I’m _pretty sure_ you liked it.” He didn’t want to bring up what had happened at Hwitaek’s dorm the first time, but Hwitaek could be so stubborn. He just wanted to get Hwitaek to stop being such a tight ass— _poor choice of words_ —and stop being such a perfect model student. Why the hell was Hwitaek so hard to corrupt?

Hwitaek laughed, a little. “Hyojong, surely you know why I enjoyed that so much.” His eyebrows were raised in a really hot way.

Hyojong blinked. “Because weed is great.” Weed was great. He was sure that’s all it was. That was the only reason Hyojong liked that experience. Nothing else.

Hwitaek crossed his arms, the corners of his lips turning up. Was this what flirting was? “Okay, being high was nice. But I think it had to do more with _you_ , Hyojong.”

“Oh my god,” Hyojong choked out. He could feel his face heating up. He wanted to die. He dragged his hands down his face, horrified with how easily Hwitaek affected him. “Why are you so _honest_?” There was nothing this kid wouldn’t say. Hyojong knew that from personal experience, and he practically choked every time.

“I told you,” Hwitaek said. There was a pleased smile on his face. This fucker _knew_ what he was doing to Hyojong—and he liked it. “I’m bad at hiding how I feel.”

Hyojong shook his head. “I know.” How could he forget, when Hwitaek was like this? He grabbed his pipe off of his kitchen counter, packing a little bit of weed into the bowl. “I’m smoking. Feel free to join me.” He went into his living room and flopped down onto the couch.

Hwitaek practically jumped on the couch, sitting way closer to Hyojong that necessary. The outside of his thigh was pressed to Hyojong’s. The only reason Hyojong noticed was because it was annoying. “You look good, too, by the way.”

Hyojong stopped flicking his lighter so he could glance at Hwitaek out the side of his eyes. “I don’t look different from usual.” Seriously, he pretty much looked the same every day.

“I know,” Hwitaek said cheerfully. “You look good every day.”

If choking on air was possible, Hyojong just did it. “Okay,” he said quickly. Even for Hwitaek, this seemed a little bold. “That’s enough honesty from you.” Unless Hwitaek wanted Hyojong to choke and die. Hyojong narrowed his eyes, and flicked his lighter on. He lit the bowl, inhaling smoke.

Hwitaek pouted a little. “Fine.”

Smoke floated through the air as Hyojong exhaled. “You didn’t used to argue with me,” he pointed out. “What happened?” Maybe it had to do with Hwitaek not being intimidated by Hyojong. Maybe Hyojong was a bad influence. He was sort of proud about it, if that were the case. Sweet class president Hwitaek was no longer agreeable. Although, it did make Hyojong’s life a lot harder. The things he did to corrupt people.

“Am I allowed to be honest?” the red-haired man asked.

Hyojong rolled his eyes, smiling against the pipe. “Go ahead.”

“Well,” Hwitaek huffed. He was grinning at the blond. Oh no. “To be honest, if I don’t argue, I’, afraid I’m going to do literally whatever you tell me to.”

What a fucking ride that took Hyojong’s mind on. Whatever Hyojong told him to do. That made Hoyjong _want_ to tell Hwitaek to do something. Like get on his knees, and— “Suck.” The pipe was pressed to Hwitaek’s lips. Hyojong wanted to shut him up, and get his mind off of less-savoury subjects. Maybe if he got Hwitaek high, he’d stop being so terrifyingly honest. Maybe he’d let Hyojong live, for once.

Hwitaek gave a dramatic show of rolling his eyes, but inhaled, anyway. Hyojong grinned. Finally, he was making progress with this prep. His pride was almost immediately cut short, though, when Hwitaek pulled his hand away so he could sputter out a cough. He kept coughing, for what felt like ten minutes, so Hyojong got up to get him a glass of water.

“Nice,” Hyojong deadpanned, handing the glass to Hwitaek. He drank it quickly, coughing a few more times before he narrowed his eyes.

Hwitaek wrinkled his nose. “I hate that.” Hyojong took his pipe back, lighting it and inhaling smoke. The burn wasn’t even that bad, this time. Hwitaek was such a square. “Really, it tastes bad and it burns. I don’t think going through all of that is worth getting high.”

Hyojong blew smoke into Hwitaek’s face. “I think you’re being dramatic.” He _knew_ Hwitaek was being dramatic. The burn wasn’t that bad in general, and after a few hits, it was hardly even noticeable.

Hwitaek laughed loudly. “I don’t think I am—”

“Imagine that.”

Hwitaek smacked Hyojong on the arm, earning a surprised laugh. “I’m _not_. I just don’t want to get high if it hurts. I think that’s a fairly reasonable want, since people don’t _generally_ like pain.” Hyojong had a few life lessons to teach this kid. “I know you like it, but I don’t understand how you can smoke so much, with how badly it burns.” Mostly because Hyojong wasn’t a giant pussy, but whatever. “Seriously, you can’t like the burn _that_ much. Being high is fine, but I don’ t really think it’s worth it. I’m not _being dramatic_ , just because I prefer not to—”

“Fine,” Hyojong sighed. He inhaled smoke. Did Hwitaek ever shut up? There was no reason to have to talk that much. Hyojong sat up on the couch, and grabbed Hwitaek’s cheeks between his fingers. _Good fucking Christ, Hwitaek’s cheeks were even softer and squishier than they looked_. Fucking hell. Jesus fucking Christ almighty. Hyojong, in complete awe of Hwitaek’s cheeks, leaned forward, placing his mouth in front of the other man’s. Hwitaek’s lips parted, and Hyojong blew the smoke out. He didn’t _want_ to shotgun Hwitaek. Why the hell would he? Hwitaek was obnoxious and preppy. He was only doing this to shut him up, because Hyojong knew he wouldn’t stop talking, unless he personally did something about it. He was just getting the annoying kid high. There was nothing more to it.

Hyojong sat back into the couch and rolled his eyes. “Think you can handle that much, sweetheart?” His use of the word ‘sweetheart’ was not to be mistaken for the endearing pet name. He was using ‘sweetheart’ in the way that bitchy teenage girls did, when they were being particularly condescending.

Hwitaek blew the smoke out and grinned. He coughed a few times, but didn’t seem to mind so much. “I guess I can live with that.”

“Good,” Hyojong said, exhaling smoke out of his nose. “Don’t be weird about it, though.” Like, don’t get the wrong idea and kiss Hyojong. He didn’t want ant sort of flirting going on. He still didn’t really like Hwitaek. And Hyojong’s body could only handle so much taunting. He kept getting turned on, really quickly; it wasn’t good for him.

Hwitaek used a cute voice, when he spoke. “I won’t,” he chirped, poking Hyojong in the ribs.

What sort of twenty-four-year-old man used a cutesy voice? And was _good_ at it? Hwitaek was kind of a freakshow. “I honestly can’t believe you’re not a virgin,” Hyojong snorted. Cute voices weren’t exactly the best way into most people’s pants.

“Hey,” Hwitaek cackled, smacking Hyojong on the arm. “Don’t be mean.”

Hwitaek didn’t seem to understand that being mean is what Hyojong _did_. “Well?” was all Hyojong replied with, raising his eyebrows. Hwitaek just laughed. “It’s hard for me to believe. Was it, like, middle school, or something?” Middle school was a low time for everyone. Hormones were truly out of control.

Plump lips stuck out in a pout. “No, it was in high school. I was friends with this one girl, and we decided to try—”

Hyojong sat up so quickly his neck popped. “Wait, it was a girl?” Hwitaek really was full of unexpected surprises. Weird kid.

“Yeah…” Hwitaek nodded slowly. Then he wrinkled his nose. “I did not like it.”

“Did you cry afterwards?” Hyojong could one-hundred percent see preppy Hwitaek doing something that ridiculous.

Hwitaek laughed loudly, leaning into the blond. “Absolutely, I did.” Hyojong laughed.

And thus, gay Hwitaek was born. Fair, though. The blond nodded, inhaling smoke. Girls were cool, and whatever, but Hyojong did _not_ want to sleep with one of them. “So you’ve never been with a guy, before?” What interesting, interesting news, this was.

The red-haired man fidgeted his hands in his lap. “Not, you know… _all the way_. I’ve done… a little bit. But no, I guess not.”

“Huh. This didn’t make Hyojong feel any sort of way at all. Not at all. Hyojong felt totally and completely neutral towards Hwitaek’s past sexual experiences— or lack thereof. Yep. He felt cool. Relaxed, chill, no feelings at all. Nothing. Hyojong was cool and composed, and he _certainly_ did not care about Hwitaek’s virginity. What an odd thing that would be, to care about.

“Oh,” is what Hyojong chose to reply. For some reason, he felt like he’d just run a full marathon.

Hwitaek raised his eyebrows so high, Hyojong thought they were going to fly away. “Have you?” he asked cautiously, eyes flickering to Hyojong’s face.

Breathing was slowly becoming easier, thankfully. “Of curse I have. Not with girls, because… gross.” Hwitaek laughed, and Hyojong physically could not stop the smile that appeared on his own face. “But, yeah, I’m definitely not a virgin.”

Hwitaek nodded. “I figured.”

A captivating topic, to say the least. “Why that’s?” Hyojong asked. He personally didn’t think he came off as someone who was a virgin. But hearing it from Hwitaek was appealing.

The red haired man shrugged. “I don’t know,” he chirped. “Just the way you act, I guess. Plus, I mean… you’re…” He cleared his throat and gave a nervous glance at Hyojong. “You’re _hot_.”

Hyojong quite literally choked on the smoke he was trying to inhale. “Jesus fucking Christ, Hwitaek,” he coughed, trying to get the smoke out of his lungs. “You have _got_ to stop doing that to me.”

Hwitaek laughed hard, leaning his cheek against Hyojong’s shoulder. “What, you don’t like compliments?”

“Not when they’re a surprise.” It was still hard for Hyojong to wrap get his mind around the fact that Hwitaek found him attractive. And he certainly wasn’t used to people being so honest with their feelings. It was an alien concept, to him.

“It’s funny,” Hwitaek smiled. He looked at Hyojong, for a moment, and pat him on the knee. “Are you high, yet?”

Hyojong paused. Hwitaek’s cheeks were so round, they just made him look even prettier when he smiled. Hyojong slowly lifted a hand, Hwitaek’s brown eyes following the movement. Hyojong poked Hwitaek in the cheek, watching the soft flesh give under the tip of his finger. His face was so smooth. And squishy. It kind of made Hyojong want to die.

“Huh?” he asked. “What?” His finger was still on Hwitaek’s face.

The way Hwitaek tilted his head to the side was really cute. “I asked you if you were high, yet.” His smile was so wide, and Hyojong wasn’t sure if he’d done anything to deserve it.

“I guess I am,” Hyojong shrugged. He felt like laughing, just because Hwitaek always looked so amazed. Regardless of what Hyojong said or did, Hwitaek’s eyes went wide, and his mouth made a cute little circle shape. Hyojong did end up laughing, just for the hell of it.

“What?” Hwitaek asked. His eyes literally never left Hyojong’s face. It made Hyojong feel really exposed, and he didn’t know why. Sometimes he wished Hwitaek would stop looking at him like that. Hyojong wasn’t even nice to Hwitaek. Not that Hwitaek did anything to really _make_ Hyojong be nice to him. But still. Hwitaek was always so happy to be around Hyojong. It was annoying.

“I don’t know,” Hyojong shrugged. “You’re a weird kid.” In every aspect of the word. Ordinary, class president Hwitaek was fucking weird. Among every other one of Hwitaek’s characteristics, it confused Hyojong.

“Once again,” Hwitaek sighed, “I’m older than you. And how am I weird?” His dainty fingers played at the ripped denim over Hyojong’s knee. His fingers were thin and pretty, his hands kind of small. They didn’t look too much smaller than Hyojong’s. Mostly just dainty.

Hyojong’s eyes followed the movement of Hwitaek’s fingers. “Hard to explain.” It was difficult to tell Hwitaek how confusing he was. He was everything a class president was expected to be, down to the last detail. He was peppy, and unrealistically nice, and he was the type of social person who identified themselves as a ‘team player,’ and other annoying things like that. But Hwitaek was also… more. In a way. He _liked_ doing what Hyojong told him to do. It was dangerous, really. And the fact that Hwitaek liked hanging out with a delinquent like Hyojong, and his mixed bag of friends, really showed how unusual he was. Preps didn’t like Hyojong. And they _most definitely_ didn’t think Hyojong was got, and actively try to spend time with him. So, Hwitaek was confusing. He acted _so_ innocent and naïve, but he was also possibly the most erotic person Hyojong had ever seen. So, so sexy. So sexy it made Hyojong feel like he was going crazy. Truly just obnoxiously sexy.

Hyojong snapped back to the conversation, and saw Hwitaek’s eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean?” the red-haired man asked.

Hyojong picked up his pipe, ready to hold it up to his lips. “I didn’t say anything.” He lit the bowl and inhaled, watching Hwitaek.

Hwitaek laughed softly. “You said ‘sexy’ without clarifying. That’s all you said.”

Great to know that Hyojong was talking without even realizing it. That could turn out to be very dangerous. Hyojong exhaled. “You’re imagining things,” he said quickly. That was convincing. Before Hwitaek could think about it too much, and realize that Hyojong was absolutely calling him sexy, Hyojong tapped on the top of his thigh. “Want another hit?”

Hwitaek smiled so wide, his eyes nearly disappeared off of his face. “Not form that,” he motioned to the pipe.

Hyojong flicked the lighter on. He watched the flame hover above the bowl. “I’ll shotgun you. Just don’t make a big deal of it.” He just wanted Hwitaek to keep from thinking about what ‘sexy’ meant, in the context of Hyojong’s brain. “And _don’t_ tell the others. You told Yanan last time, and he told Shinwon, who told everyone else. I _still_ get harassed about that.”

Hwitaek nodded, scooting a little closer to the blond man. “I only told Yanan because I didn’t know what to do.” He smiled softly. “I didn’t know anyone else would find out, sorry.”

Hyojong wished that it was easier to stay pissed off at the class president. “It’s fine.” He’d already made a big deal out of it. He was finished being dramatic, for now. “I just don’t want them to think it’s anything weird. It’s not. It’s just weed, okay?”

The red-haired man nodded happily. “Okay.” His smile grew wider, and he looked at Hyojong the way he always did, when he was about to say something embarrassing. “Note that you’re the one who offered to shotgun me, this time. So don’t try to blame it on me.”

It looked like Hwitaek already had a good handle on Hyojong’s personality. “Yeah, yeah,” he smiled. “Shut up and come here.” Hwitaek watched him closely, when he lit the bowl and exhaled. The older man’s cheeks were light pink. Hyojong could see Hwitaek’s adam’s apple bob with a hard swallow but he didn’t know why. All Hyojong was doing was smoking. It wasn’t that exciting. Hyojong set the pipe down, holding the smoke at the back of his throat. Hwitaek eagerly leaned forward, putting his lips close to Hyojong’s. Hyojong pushed the smoke forward, between the other’s lips.

Hwitaek seemed so awestruck by everything. For a moment, it made Hyojong want to show him how good of a kisser he was. Just to blow his mind. And then he realized that Hwitaek already knew. And it actually been Hyojong, whose mind had been blown.

It still made Hyojong want to show him how good he was at other things. Things that would make Shinwon fake gag at, if he heard them. Things that required hands, and mouth, and the rest of his body. Things. Positions. Whatever. He just wanted to see the bothersome class president’s perfect exterior melt down to something messy and hot.

Hwitaek was the first to pull away, this time. He smiled at Hyojong, even while holding the smoke down.

“You’re not even hacking it up,” Hyojong teased, patting him in the knee. Oh. Hwitaek was really warm. Like one of those concerningly tasty microwave pizzas. Actually, that was the perfect way to describe Hwitaek. Concerningly tasty.

Hyojong laughed out loud, at that one.

Hwitaek blew the smoke out, his expression breaking out into a smile. “What’s so funny?”

The blond man shook his head. “Nothing. I want pizza.”

“Order some, then.” Hyojong hadn’t noticed before now, but Hwitaek was wearing a particularly well-fitting pair of running pants. He was sitting cross-legged on the couch, so it was hard to tell, but they seemed to hug his thighs really nicely. “After you shotgun me, again.”

Hyojong nodded an “okie dokie,” and brought the pipe back up to his mouth.

Hwitaek snorted loudly. “I never thought I’d hear those words come out of your mouth.”

Hyojong tired not to laugh up the smoke, only letting a little bit of it escape from his nose. He motioned for Hwitaek to come forward, again. He did, so Hyojong blew smoke inoto Hwitaek’s mouth, like it felt they had done a hundred times.

Hyojong backed away, sinking into the couch, more or less squeaking out a laugh. “I say that all the time.” He thought it was a cute phrase. He liked cute things like that. Minus Hwitaek, of course.

Hwitaek let all of the smoke out with a loud laugh. It was one of his laughs where his whole body moved with the sound. His hand landed in Hyojong’s lap. Hyojong didn’t know whether to push him off, or pet at his hair, so he did neither, and settled for just watched.

Regularly, Hyojong would have been annoyed when Shinwon burst through the door and struck a flamboyant pose. He wasn’t so annoyed this time, though. Partially because Shinwon had an eyeful of Hwitaek’s head in Hyojong’s lap. But mostly because he was posing with three large boxes of pizza.

“Oh, good,” Shinwon deadpanned, rolling his eyes. “I just walked in on foreplay.” He shut the door behind him dramatically.

Hyojong stood up quickly, pushing Hwitaek’s head out of his lap. “You brought pizza,” Hyojong grinned. “I’m honestly so happy, I could kiss you on the dick.” He held Shinwon’s face in his hands, for a moment, before stealing a piece of pizza and settling back into the couch.

Shinwon looked positively horrified. “Please, _for the love of god_ , absolutely do not fucking do that.” He shuddered. “For Christ’s sake, Hyojong.”

Hyojong cackled, shoving a slice of pizza halfway down his throat. “Sorry I’m expressing my love.”

Shinwon flopped onto the couch opposite of the one Hyojong and Hwitaek were on. He set the other boxes of pizza on the coffee table. “Well, don’t,” he snipped.

Hyojong held his half-eaten piece of pizza in front of Hwitaek’s face. “Open,” he demanded quietly. Hwitaek looked confused, for a moment, and then he opened his mouth. Christ. What an obscenely nice mouth. Hyojong put the pizza in the red-haired man’s mouth, allowing him to take a bite. The way Hwitaek maintained eye contact the whole time really made Hyojong feel funny, in a less that appropriate way.

There was a knock on the door—thank god—giving Hyojong an excuse to get away from Hwitaek’s eroticism. He gave the pizza to Hwitaek, standing up and opening the door. There were two people Hyojong was positive he’d never seen in his entire life. One of them might have been a toddler. The other was, no surprise, taller than Hyojong. They were both dressed in preppy clothes, from the button-up and tie, to the khaki slacks. Hyojong wanted to ask them if they knew how terrible they looked.

“Are you Hyojong?” the taller man asked. Surprisingly, his voice was really soft. His shirtsleeves looked like they were about to burst. Hyojong probably should have been intimidated, but this guy was as preppy as Hwitaek. He was no threat. Besides, if Hyojong was too small to kick his ass, he _knew_ Yuto could take him. Yuto had really been packing on the muscle, lately.

“Yeah.”

The small one grinned. Why was a toddler dressed like this? “Great! We’re Hongseok and Jinho.” He motioned to them with the introductions. “We’re friends of Hwitaek’s.”

Hyojong looked them up and down. “I can tell.” He opened the door wider, inviting them inside. No person on the face of the planet would be friends with these people, other than Hwitaek. And vice versa.

Hwitaek was standing already, taking both of his friends into his tiny arms. “Hongseokkie! Jinho! I’m so glad you could make it.” He shook them from side to side, making some sort of excited noise. Hyojong thought weed was meant to mellow people down. Hwitaek sure wanted to change Hyojong’s mind about that. Hwitaek turned to Shinwon. “Shinwon, do you already know Hongseok and Jinho?”

“Of course, of course,” Shinwon smiled charmingly, waving a hand. What a fake. “Jinho was an aide for my management class, and Hongseok has helped me with all of my fashion design bullshit.”

Jinho smiled happily. “He’s very good at it,” he said to Hyojong. For some reason, he reminded Hyojong of his own mother, whenever she bragged about him to other people.

The one named Hongseok was patting Hwitaek on the top of the head. “Wait, are you high?” he asked, looking surprised.

Hyojong felt it best to respond for Hwitaek. “He had four hits. And really, they were like half hits.” Shotgunning was just second-hand smoke. “He’s barely even high. It won’t kill him.”

“Half hits?” Hongseok asked, raising his eyebrows. He was eyeing Hyojong as if he’d just tried to kill his baby. “Did you shotgun him, again?”

It was silent for a good moment. Hyojong didn’t know what the hell he was supposed to say to that. For one thing, he didn’t want Shinwon making fun of him. He still didn’t like Hwitaek. For another thing, Hwitaek wasn’t supposed to have _told_ anyone. And it really pissed him off. That was supposed to be between _them_. Not the rest of Hwitaek’s idiot prep friends.

It was Hwitaek;s loud laugh that broke the silence. “No, of course not,” he lied badly. Hyojong was going to have to teach this kid how to tell a lie. Even if it required spending more time with the guy. Hyojong would take a bullet, because really, everyone needed to know how to convincingly tell a lie. “I just didn’t smoke a lot, since I’m a lightweight.” His eyes flickered to Hyojong and he cackled. “I’m _practically_ a virgin.”

Hongseok and Jinho looked stressed enough for their hair to turn white.

Hyojong closed his eyes and let out a short laugh. He _knew_ Hwitaek was referencing the first time they’d smoked together, when Hyojong had called him a weed virgin. But it was still too much. “Okay,” he smiled. He clapped Hwitaek on the back, maybe a little too hard. “That’s enough of that.”

Shinwon spoke around a piece of pizza. “Hyojong, if that’s implying that you fucked Hui, I’m going to light myself on fire and let myself die, right on this couch.”

Hyojong wondered how socially acceptable it would be if he screamed at the top of his lungs. Instead, he and Hwitaek sputtered out responses at the same time. “Fat chance, Shinwon, you know I would never—”

Hwitaek kept laughing nervously, shaking his head quickly. “I wasn’t trying to imply anything, I was just making a joke because last time I got high, it was the first time, and—”

Hyojong gave a bitter laugh. “I wouldn’t _sleep_ with someone like him, I’ve told you that a million times. I would rather _die_ , you’re well aware—”

“And Hyojong called me a weed virgin, so I just thought it was funny.”

Shinwon groaned, “fucking hell. I was just kidding, guys, calm down.” He held the box of pizza out to Jinho and Hongseok. “Want some?”

“Sure,” Jinho nodded.

Hongseok eagerly took a slice. “I can always go for some pizza.”

The door of Hyojong’s apartment opened, revealing two massive figures. Wooseok, holding Yanan’s hand for dear life, walked into Hyojong’s living room, pulling his boyfriend along. “Hey, everyone,” Wooseok grinned. Yanan gave a small wave at his side. “Oh, who brought the pizza?” He was already half way to finishing his first slice. Wooseok was such a barbarian, sometimes.

“You can thank Shinwon for that,” Hyojong said.

Shinwon looked up at Wooseok expectantly. “What?” the taller man asked, eyes flitting around the room.

Shinwon sighed dramatically. “He said to thank me for the pizza.”

While Wooseok was teasing Shinwon about thanking him, Jinho perked up. “Oh!” he said, reaching for the bag that was slung over his shoulder. “I hope you like soju, because I brought you some.” He pulled two bottles of soju out of his bag, and handed them to Hyojong.

Hyojong was so happy, he almost thanked him in the same way he’d thanked Shinwon when he’d arrived. He decided that it probably wouldn’t be the best idea to threated to kiss a stranger on the dick. “This family _loves_ soju,” He grinned. Any type of alcohol was acceptable, honestly.”

“Family?” Jinho asked, still giving that round-faced smile.

“Oh,” Hyojong said, “I just meant us. Like, Wooseok, Yanan, and Shinwon, and Yuto, Kino, and me. I just call them that, sometimes.” Before Shinwon could make fun of Hyojong for that, Hyojong took the soju into his hands. “Thank you for these. I’m gonna refrigerate these, for a minute.” He glanced at Hwitaek, giving a narrow-eyed smirk. “I didn’t know you had cool friends.” He moved into the kitchen, Hwitaek following closely.

Hyojong was standing up from putting everything in the fridge, when he noticed how unusually quiet Hwitaek was. “Did I offend you by saying you have cool friends?” If he did, he was going to tell Hwitaek to get over it.

 

“No,” Hwitaek said, bottom lip puffed out in a out in a pout. He crossed his arms over his chest, and just looked up at Hyojong. Hyojong was about to leave, really, because staying with Hwitaek like this was a drag. Hwitaek huffed, though, and loudly. “What you said earlier… never?”

If this was what Hwitaek looked like when he was pouting, it was only _kind of_ cute. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hyojong said, shaking his head. Hyojong had said a lot of things. And a lot of them had consisted of the word ‘never.’ It was the type of person Hyojong was.

The red-haired man huffed again. “After Shinwon threatened to light himself on fire. You know…” The tips of his ears were red.

Hyojong scoffed. “After he accused us of sleeping together?” He was going to kill Shinwon for even _thinking_ that. Seriously.

Hwitaek’s eyebrows knit. “Yes, _obviously_.” He rolled his eyes. Hyojnog may have felt his pants tighten. “You said you would _never_.”

“So?” Hyojong didn’t get the point Hwitaek was trying to make.

Plump lips pursed. “ _So_ , you said you would rather die than sleep with someone like me.”

“I said that,” Hyojong confirmed with a shrug. He didn’t get what the hell the big deal was. He’d meant what he’d said.

Hwitaek looked a little surprised at Hyojong’s words, but mostly offended. “I’m not offended you wouldn’t sleep with me, you just don’t have to be so _mean_ about it, Hyojong. And what do you mean ‘people like me?’ I don’t understand what type of person you see me as.”

Hyojong remembered something that had offended _him_. Just moments before Hwitaek had apparently gotten offended. “The type of person who _tells their friends_ that I _shotgunned them_.” Really, what the fuck was that about? Hwitaek opened his mouth to speak, but Hyojong was reminded of how mad Hwitaek could make him. “That was obviously supposed to be between us. I told you not to tell anyone. I’m sure you told them about everything that happened.”

“You told me not to tell _your_ friends,” Hwitaek said quickly.

Hyojong narrowed his eyes. “I feel like you probably could have _assumed_ not to tell anyone else, either. Especially not _your_ friends.”

“Why especially mine?”

Hyojong rolled his eyes. Any chance of escape, right now, and he’d take it. “You know.” Hwitaek looked at Hyojong blankly. “You’re the _class president_. I don’t want the whole school board knowing about me. Your type of preppy people aren’t used to people like me.”

The corners of Hwitaek’s mouth turned down. It made Hyojong want to make things better, but he didn’t know why. Or how. “I only told them because you were ignoring me, and I didn’t know what else to do,” he said softly. “You don’t have to be so mean to me, Hyojong.”

Hyojong crossed his arms. “Okay.”

“I wouldn’t have told them otherwise, and I didn’t tell anyone else.”

“Okay,” Hyojong repeated. For some ungodly reason, he felt like comforting Hwitaek. He was disgusted with himself. He didn’t know what else to do, so he pet the top of Hwitaek’s heat, ruffling his hair. “I wasn’t trying to be mean to you. Don’t get so worked up about things. It’s fine.”

A smile threatened the corners of Hwitaek’s mouth, but he held it down. “You really wouldn’t sleep with the class president?” He gave a cute little pout that made Hyojong want to give in and tell him that he was ready to sleep with Hwitaek _right then_ , if that’s what he wanted.

“Why does it matter?” Hyojong asked, putting a hand on Hwitaek’s shoulder. He started leading them out of the kitchen, where things were slightly less awkward. “You’re the one who wanted to be friends so badly.”

“I guess,” Hwitaek said slowly. Hyojong bumped into Hwitaek with his shoulder, and Hwitaek finally, _finally_ smiled. Not that Hyojong cared, or felt super relieved by seeing that pretty smile.

Hyojong smiled, a little, and couldn’t believe what was already coming out of his mouth. “And, I mean, I already sucked your face, so that must count for something.” God, he hated himself. HE wished he could just shut the fuck up, sometimes.

Hwitaek grinned.

Back in the living room, it appeared that Yuto and Kino had already arrived. Kino was wrapped around his boyfriend’s arm, as usual. Yuto, also as usual, couldn’t have looked happier.

“You good?” Yuto asked. There was a cigarette tucked behind his ear, nestled in his styled black hair. There was the slightest smudge of grey eyeliner around his eyes, making them seem even darker than they already were.

Hyojong raised his eyebrows. “Why wouldn’t I be?” Yuto just shrugged.

“Hyojong!” Kino grinned, practically jumping up and down. “I didn’t know you were bringing Jinho!” He left Yuto’s arm to wrap his own around the smaller man, squeezing him lovingly.

“Neither did I,” Hyojong said. “But he brought soju, so I’m not complaining.”

Jinho wrapped his arms around Kino, and smiled at Hyojong. “Hyunggu is my baby,” he said simply, like it was his greatest achievement.

“I just lost my boyfriend to an old man,” Yuto said dryly. Hwitaek laughed loudly, his smile wide across his face, an Hyojong wasn’t so sure why he’d noticed that.

“Hey, I’m not _that_ old. I’m still in college, aren’t I?”

Hwitaek excitedly wrapped his arms around both Kino and Jinho. He really was a touchy person. “Just barely,” he said to the shorter man.

“That’s true enough,” Jinho nodded.

Hyojong flopped down on the couch, next to Shinwon. He grabbed a slice of pizza and bit into it. “Oh my god, this pizza is so fucking good.” Sometimes his mind was really fucking blown at how good food could be.

“You’re high,” Shinwon said, as if it explained everything. Which, it kind of did. “Also, just to let you know, buttercup, we could all hear your little domestic with Hui.”

Hyojong felt his ears heat up. “Wasn’t a domestic. It wasn’t even an argument. He was just being sensitive.” They didn’t know each other well enough to argue. They’d accidentally offended each other, due to being such different people. Not everything was a big deal.

“It’s your own fault for saying you wouldn’t have sex with him,” Shinwon said.

Hyojong picked his pipe and lighter up from where he’d left them on the coffee table. “I _wouldn’t_ sleep with him,” Hyojong said, quiet enough for Hwitaek not to hear him. “He’s the class president. We’re too different.” He was a model student, preppy, and enthusiastic. The exact opposite of Hyojong. Being _near_ someone like Hwitaek went against everything Hyojong knew and believed. He couldn’t just give into something because it was pretty.

Shinwon sighed, shaking his head slowly. “I don’t get why you’re holding yourself back.” He rolled his eyes as Hyojong blew smoke towards the ceiling. “Fuck him, if you want to.”

“I don’t want to,” Hyojong said quickly. He inhaled more smoke. There was no such thing as being too high, right?

“Bullshit/”

Someone knocked on the door, briefly shutting everyone up. Wooseok was quick to move towards the door, off of the couch he was sharing with Yanan. “I got it,” he said. He opened the door, letting in a stranger that could only be one of Hwitaek’s friends. He was dressed in something a gym teacher would wear, from the stylishly worn jeans, to the windbreaker. His smile was somehow about three times as big as Hwitaek’s, although—don’t quote Hyojong on this—not nearly as pleasant to look at.

“Hey, everyone,” he greeted enthusiastically, as the door shut behind him. “I’m sorry I’m so late. At first it was because I was trying to decide on a hair style.” Hyojong wanted to note that it looked like he hadn’t styled it at all. “And then I couldn’t decide on the yellow or the green windbreaker.” He was wearing the obnoxiously bright yellow one.

Shinwon gasped. “Holy fuck, I’m gay.”

Hyojong snickered. “Yeah, dude, we know that.” He followed Shinwon’s awestruck line of sight, only to look at the strange smiling man. “Wait,” Hyojong realized. “Him?”

Shinwon’s eyes were wide, staring straight at the other man. Or, rather, staring gay at the other man. “I don’t know what the _fuck_ his name is, but I’m eighty percent sure I’m having an orgasm right now.”

“Fucking hell,” Hyojong spat. He laughed, though, because that was something he, himself, would say. “That guy, though? You don’t want to go for someone, you know, more attractive?”

Shinwon shook his head, obviously still in a trance, since he hadn’t looked away from the newcomer since he’d laid eyes on him. “Not possible. Literally not even possible.”

Hyojong snorted. “Really? He’s, like, the most boring looking person I’ve ever seen. He looks like every catalogue model in the world.” To Hyojong, he looked generic. Colgate smiles, and above average attractiveness, and hair that had probably never been bleached in his entire life. He was boring. It was like he had red hair, or something. Bad example. Really bad example.

“I’m Yeo Changgu, for those of you who don’t know me.” He took Hyojong’s hand in both of his, shaking it excitedly. A two-handed handshake? Really? “And you are?”

“Hyojong.” He pulled his hand away from the other man’s, wiping them on his jeans. This guy made _Hwitaek_ look calm. He was too enthusiastic and optimistic about everything, in a very bright and happy way. It made Hwitaek look ten times more tolerable, in comparison. Who knew it could be done?

“Oh! So this is your place?” Hyojong nodded wordlessly, and Changgu looked around. It looked like he was a little kid, going to the zoo for the first time. “It’s nice, I love it!” Hyojong wrinkled his nose. Nope. Not for him.

“I can’t believe you two haven’t met, yet,” Hwitaek said. He was still wrapped around Jinho and Kino. His cheek was squished against one of the shorter man’s shoulders. It made Hyojong want to bathe himself in gasoline and light a match. His cheeks were just so _soft_.

Changgu turned towards Shinwon with a smile, and Hyojong could _see_ Shinwon’s soul ascend from his body. Changgu gave Shinwon the same, two-handed handshake he’d given Hyojong. “I’m Changgu, it’s nice to meet you! I feel like I’ve seen you on tv, or something. Do you model, or anything? Never mind, what’s your name?”

Shinwon’s mouth opened and closed, clearly at a loss for words. “Uh,” he said. Hyojong kind of wanted to help him out, so he wouldn’t suffer too much. Even more so, though, Hyojong wanted to see him suffer. Shinwon’s eyes were wide. “Shin—” He cleared his throat. “Shinpon?”

If it was possible to die from laughing so hard, Hyojong was about to do so.

“Shinpon?” Changgu asked, cocking an eyebrow.

All Hyojong could do was cackle. This was what Shinwon got for bringing up he and Hwitaek, all the time.

To Shinwon’s luck, Wooseok stepped in. “His name is Shinwon,” he said. He knit his eyebrows, looking down at his friend. Hyojong was going to have so much fun telling Wooseok about Shinwon’s little crush, later. “He’s just being weird.”

Shinwon gave an obviously forced smile, and ended up looking more or less like he was in serious pain, and needed to be taken to the hospital as soon as possible. “Yes,” he said tersely, to no one in particular.

Hyojong’s stomach hurt from laughing so hard. He’d never seen Shinwon get so worked up about a boy. It was hilarious, to say the least. Hyojong looked away from Shinwon and his terrified expressions, to see what everyone else was up to.

Hwitaek was animatedly talking to Kino and Jinho, pausing to laugh every-so-often. Hongseok was standing next to Jinho, patting Hwitaek’s head and fixing his shirt whenever Hwitaek made a particularly funny joke. Yuto had his arms back around Kino, and was laughing at his boyfriend and Hwitaek, pressing his face into the crook of Kino’s neck. Changgu was as hyper as someone could be, really, talking to Shinwon about how he _swore_ Shinwon had been on television, or in a magazine, or something, and Shinwon was trying to come off as a regular human being. Which was exactly what Shinwon _wasn’t_. Wooseok had Yanan perched on his lap, talking to Yuto through the other conversations going on in the room. Yanan kept laughing at squishing Wooseok’s cheeks between his hands.

It all seemed so normal, to Hyojong. A hundred different conversations going on in the room, the slight smell of weed, and pizza, and cologne, and sweat filling the room. Everyone was getting along well, so far, but Hyojong could only converse with so many people. He liked talking to his own friends, and he could talk to Hwitaek. He didn’t know Hwitaek’s friends, but he didn’t like them any more than he’d expected to. And Hyojong was sitting in the corner of one of the couches, smoking a bowl, and watching everything happen. He was there, but right now, it felt like he was merely an observer. He didn’t mind it. It just felt weird, because he could see every single thing that was taking place in his living room. It was the biggest mixed bag of people Hyojong could imagine.

And it was going to be one hell of a night.

 

It was approximately three and a half hours into the party, and almost everybody was effectively fucked up.

Hyojong had smoked a _lot_ more, and on top of that, he’d had about a bottle and a half of soju. Wooseok had finally decided to smoke with Hyojong, all while keeping his boyfriend satisfied with a bottle of white wine Hyojong had been keeping in his fridge. Yuto hadn’t really been drinking, besides a few sips of beer, but his boyfriend had been, so Kino was very giggly and touchy, which was always worrisome. Sometimes, and more often than not, he got _too_ touchy with Yuto. It was something Hyojong wanted to experience again.

The only thing Shinwon was drunk on, was his newfound crush, but it was just as entertaining as watching someone get totally shitfaced, so Hyojong was happy. His crush, on the other hand—Changgu, or whatever it had been—had drank both soju and beer throughout the night, and seemed to be in a pretty good place.

The small one, Jinho, was surprisingly good at throwing drinks back, and Hyojong would have been surprised if he eventually caught up with Hyojong. Hongseok didn’t seem to be drinking, and instead settled on looking at Hyojong like he’d murdered his whole family. He didn’t know what the hell he’d done to that prep, but it was getting really old. Hyojong felt like it had something to do with him getting Hwitaek high. If that was the case, Hyojong knew what he had to do. It was simple. Hyojong had to get Hwitaek even _higher_.

Hwitaek hadn’t smoked any more since Hyojong had shotgunned him, but he was still moderately high. He was back to sitting next to Hyojong, practically on top of him. He was talking nonstop to Changgu, the two of them as loud and energetic as ever. Every so often, he’d laugh so hard that his whole body would come rocking down onto Hyojong’s lap.

Hyojong figured that now was as good of a time as any to interrupt Hwitaek’s conversation. “Hey,” he said softly, leaning in close to Hwitaek, so he could speak quietly to him. “Come with me, for a second.” He was painfully aware of how close his lips were to Hwitaek’s ear.

Hwitaek’s round eyes were wide, as usual, tinted the lightest shade of pink. Unlike how Hyojong’s eyes were, right now. If they were open, at all, he was sure they were fairly fucking bloodshot. “Okay,” Hwitaek practically breathed, nodding his head slowly.

Hyojong used all of the strength in his intoxicated little body to push himself up off of the couch, so he could lead Hwitaek back into his kitchen. He practically maimed himself on his counter, bit he managed to make it to one of his cupboards. He _definitely_ had to stand on the tips of his toes to each the back of his cupboard, but that was beside the point.

“Here,” Hyojong said, holding a piece of chocolate out for the other man. “You don’t really like smoking, right? It’s an edible.” Hyojong loved edibles. He loved smoking, but edibles were fun and effortless.

“Aren’t they supposed to be brownies?” Hwitaek asked. “And bigger?”

Hyojong laughed. “No, this’ll do you just fine. And weed can be put in literally anything. I had weed mac and cheese like two weeks ago.” Oh, naïve Hwitaek. He asked the most typical questions. “You can get high without having to smoke.”

Hwitaek eyed the edible that was pinched between Hyojong’s forefinger and thumb. “What’s it taste like?”

“It’s just chocolate.” He waved the piece in front of Hwitaek. “Here. It’s not bad, I swear.”

Hwitaek nodded slowly, leaning forward. He took the piece of chocolate between his teeth, eyes watching Hyojong. As if the extended eye-contact wasn’t bad enough, Hwitaek’s soft, full lips brushed the tips of Hyojong’s fingers. Hyojong should have let Hwitaek feed it to himself. It was a small piece of chocolate, it was no wonder his lips had made contact with Hyojong. But it made Hyojong a lot harder than he had wanted to be, at this particular moment in time. He was just trying not to groan.

Hwitaek wrinkled his nose while he was chewing. It tastes weird. Not bad, just… weird.”

“Most edibles,” Hyojong told him, patting him on the shoulder. “Give it about fifteen minutes, and it’ll really hit you. Like, it’s gonna rock your world.”

“Thanks,” Hwitaek said, giving a small smile.

Hyojong ran a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his face. “You’re not still mad about earlier, are you?” Hwitaek shook his head, but it wasn’t convincing. He lowered his voice, so none of their friends could hear him. “If you are, I’m sorry.”

Hyojong smiled, and shook his head. “I’m not mad, Hyojong. I know I said I wouldn’t mind if you were mean to me, but that isn’t what I meant. Just be a little nicer, sometimes.” He tilted his head to the side, like a cute puppy, so Hyojong knew he wasn’t still offended.

‘Right,” Hyojong nodded. “But you know how Shinwon is. I didn’t know what else to say.”

Hwitaek was clearly trying very hard to not smile. “So, you would sleep with me?”

Hyojong felt like he’d just made a mistake by apologizing to Hwitaek. “I didn’t say that.” He shook his head, chuckling at Hwitaek. Nothing got on Hyojong’s nerves other than how cute Hwitaek was. “I thought we were supposed to be friends, anyway?” Not that they were. They still weren’t.

“You’re right,” Hwitaek smiled. He practically hopped into the living room, laughing when Hyojong made a show of rolling his eyes. Hyojong followed, having to walk a little weird, so no one could tell that he’d gotten hard. The rest of their friends were looking at them like they were crazy, so Hyojong decided to ignore it and drink.

He turned to grab his soju, but was instead met by Hongseok’s glare. He got that people liked glaring at him. He glared at people a lot, too. But Hyojong hadn’t even _done_ anything. If he had done anything, it would have been fine. But he _hadn’t_. So it was just fucking annoying.

Hyojong looked away quickly, not wanting to get into a fight with some prep, right now. He sat next to Wooseok, and technically Yanan, since he was sitting on Wooseok’s lap like he owned it. Hyojong supposed that he technically sort of did, in a way. Yanan’s arms were looped around Wooseok’s neck, the darker haired man lighting his pipe around his long limbs.

“Wooseok, I have question for you,” Shinwon said, sitting opposite of them. “But you can’t hit me for it.”

The pipe was still pressed against Wooseok’s lips, so he raised his eyebrows in response. Hyojong understood that Wooseok was _not_ promising to restrain from hitting Shinwon. Which was fair.

Shinwon sat up straight, watching Wooseok. “Okay, I _cannot_ figure this out, and I’m not entirely sure I _want_ to know.” He sounded so distressed about whatever he was about to ask. Hyojong would have bet anything that it had to do with Changgu. “But it’s driving me crazy. Which one of you tops?”

Hyojong damn near spat out his soju.

He glanced at Hwitaek because he was curious about his reaction. Hwitaek looked utterly _shocked_. It would have been hilarious, if Hyojong hadn’t been just as baffled by his friends.

Wooseok’s eyes were wide, eyebrows knit in concern. “Do I have to answer that?” He pinched the bridge of his nose. Yanan was still on his lap, looking straight down in front of him. His cheeks were red, his lips pursed tightly.

“ _Yes_ ,” Shinwon fussed. “I can’t tell, and I’m curious.”

What an exciting time this must have been, for Hwitaek’s friends. The first time they hang out with Hyojong’s group, and Shinwon has sex questions. That, of course, he couldn’t wait until _later_ to ask. He had to make everyone listen to his question, because it was _that_ important. What a Shinwon thing to do.

Hyojong snorted. “Can you usually tell?” he asked skeptically.

“Duh,” Shinwon scoffed. “For example, you’re a switch, but you usually top. Yuto’s a top, Kino’s a bottom. _Obviously_.”

Hyojong didn’t appreciate Shinwon being right about his preferred sex positions. He laughed, a little. “Fine, fine,” he said, neither denying or confirming Shinwon’s words. “Do everyone, then.” Not at all because he wanted to know Shinwon’s opinion on Hwitaek. Hwitaek’s sexual preferences didn’t matter to Hyojong.

Shinwon slumped into his seat, as if he’d just been asked to complete the easiest task on earth. “Hyojong’s a versatile top. Yuto top, Kino bottom, Hongseok top, Jinho… switch. Hui’s a bottom. And Wooseok and Yanan are the problem, because I don’t _know_.”

“You forgot Changgu,” Hyojong said, before Shinwon could even breathe. He was going to come back to what Shinwon said about Hwitaek, and a later time. For now, he had to torment one of his closest friends.

Shinwon clenched his jaw while looking at Hyojong.

“Yeah!” Changgu beamed, turning to look at Shinwon. “What do you think I am?”

Shinwon’s adam’s apple visibly bobbed as he swallowed hard. “Oh, I don’t know,” he breathed. “I just met you, so I can’t really tell.” Hyojong was _definitely_ going to get kickback, over this.

Changgu was more excited than anyone had ever seen. This kid was like an energetic puppy, if the energetic puppy had chugged six energy drinks. Hyojong really did not understand what Shinwon was so worked up about. “Just make a guess,” Changgu smiled brightly.

“Uh.” Shinwon really did have a way with words. “Um. I don’t know.” Hyojong was _so_ going to be paid back for this. It would not be fun. Fair, maybe. Worth it, definitely. “T-top?” Shinwon stuttered.

Changgu winked, “good guess,” and laughed loudly. Luckily, he turned away in time to not see the colour drain out of Shinwon’s face.

Shinwon pointed an accusatory finger at Hyojong, frowning and mouthing threats to murder him. Hyojong wasn’t done so soon, though. “How about you, Shinwonnie?” he asked, using the cutesy nickname to further torture the younger man. He tried not to snicker too loudly.

“Yeah, you can’t expose the rest of us without exposing yourself,” Yuto said. As if everyone didn’t already know that he was fucking Kino.

“Fine,” Shinwon sniffed. “I’m God. That’s all.”

Really interesting that Shinwon thought Hwitaek was a bottom. Shinwon was literally spot on about Hyojong, and likely about everyone else, too. Which meant that he was probably the same for Hwitaek. Hwitaek was a bottom. Submissive. Huh.

“Can we get back on the subject, for fuck’s sake?” Shinwon asked. “Wooseok, fess up. The rest of us already did.”

“Why does it matter?” Wooseok whined. What a baby.

“Because I can’t tell,” Shinwon said. “You’re both so…”

“Submissive?” Hyojong offered. It was true. Wooseok was such a flower, all the time. He was gentle, and quiet, an Yanan obviously was, too. Wooseok was always sleepy and he did what he was asked without arguing—most of the time—because he was such a nice kid. Not that nice, gentle people couldn’t be dominant, or whatever, bur Wooseok just seemed so… submissive. And from what Hyojong could tell, Yanan was even worse.

“I’m not—” Wooseok sighed. He rolled his eyes, not wanting to get into with Hyojong and Shinwon, as usual. “I’ve topped, so far. Happy?”

Hyojong and Shinwon stared at the couple, for a moment. He supposed it made sense.

“Yeah, kinda,” Hyojong admitted.

Wooseok slumped into the couch, whining loudly. “Stop asking me these questions,” he complained, covering himself with his boyfriend.

“Quit bitching,” Hyojong grumbled. “Want a shot?” Wooseok groaned a response. Hyojong was going to assume that it meant yes. Hyojong reached over his coffee table to grab the shotglass he’d been using, earlier that night. He filled it with some tequila he had close by, and handed it to Wooseok.

“Tequila?” Wooseok asked, looking at the liquid. He furrowed his eyebrows. “I don’t know if I should. You know how tequila makes me.”

Hyojong wrinkled his nose. “Horny?”

Wooseok nodded. “Yeah, like a lot. I don’t think it’s the best—”

“Do it,” Yanan said softly, putting his hand on the back of Wooseok’s neck. The corners of his lips lifted into a small smile, and Hyojong was pretty sure he was looking into the face of the devil.

The taller man threw the glass back, along with his head, downing it without an issue. “Thanks,” he said, handing the glass back to Hyojong.

“Hyojong, I don’t think I’m—” Hwitaek wasn’t looking at Hyojong, when he first spoke. Then, he turned his head to Hyojong, and his eyes got wide. “ _Oh. Fuck_.”

Hyojong didn’t know if it was normal to get aroused by someone cursing, but it was definitely happening. He was still wound up from earlier. Like, it was _really_ happening. As in, he was probably more than half hard, and full of self-loathing. Hwitaek had taken food form Hyojong’s hand, and had damn near sucked on his fingers in the process. And this was only making things worse. It made sense that Hyojong had gotten worked up over that. But Hwitaek saying one curse word? Hyojong must have been out of his fucking mind. It’s just that Hwitaek was so preppy, and exemplary. He was naïve and annoyingly innocent, Hyojong never thought he’d hear Hwitaek say something like that.

“Hui!” Jinho scolded, but he was laughing his ass off. “Watch your language.” He leaned over to smack Hwitaek on the arm.

Hwitaek started laughing so hard, he rolled onto the floor. He just kept laughing, and staring up at the ceiling. Hyojong knew how that went. Sometimes, if you were high enough, it was hard to stop laughing, once you got started.

“Fuck,” Hwitaek said again, and laughed even harder. Speaking of ‘even harder,’ this certainly wasn’t helping Hyojong’s case.

“Hui,” Hongseok smiled. “Get off of the floor.” He gently nudged the red-haired man’s arm with his foot.

Hwitaek laughed a little more, and rolled to an upright, standing position. “I feel good,” he said. He trudged over to the side of the room Hyojong was on. And he flopped down onto Hyojong’s lap. “I’m sitting here,” he said simply, making himself comfortable. “I like Hyojongie.”

In case anyone was wondering, Hyojong was still semi-hard. The nickname had killed it a little, but not enough. He didn’t know if Hwitaek sitting on him was really best for this situation. He couldn’t _move_ , though, because if he did, Hwitaek was going to find out that Hyojong had popped the majority of a boner in the middle of this get together. It could only get worse from there. So, he just stared at Hwitaek with wide eyes, holding his hands up so they didn’t touch any part of Hwitaek, and wondered what he’d done to get punished so brutally.

“Don’t crush him,” Yuto laughed. “Hyojong is a tiny man.”

“So tiny,” Shinwon snickered. Changgu laughed far louder than he needed to.

“Fuck off,” Hyojong bit out.

Hwitaek twisted to look down at Hyojong. “I’m _smaller_ than him,” he pointed out. “We’re pretty much the same size, but at least he has… muscle. I don’t think I can crush him.”

Hyojong _almost_ wanted to tell him o try. But them he figured that he was having a difficult enough time as it was.

Kino was resting his chin in his hand, adoringly looking up at his boyfriend. Yuto wasn’t even doing anything, but Kino was smiling. “Babe,” he cooed. His fingers found Yuto’s forearm, lightly resting there.

The older man turned to look at Kino, a smile moving onto his features. “Yeah?” he asked.

Kino wiggled closer to his boyfriend. His hand slid down Yuto’s arm, down his torso, until it was resting above the hem of Yuto’s shirt, right over where his hipbone was. “We should leave.” His voice was low, but it was still loud enough to be heard by the rest of the room.

“Already?” Hyojong asked, mostly to remind them that there were other people present.

Kino was already standing. “It’s kind of late.” Yuto nodded. It being late had never stopped the two of them form staying at Hyojong’s apartment until the crack of dawn, or even overnight.

“You stay late all the time,” Wooseok pointed out.

Maybe it was because he was drunk, but Kino was a hell of a lot less shy than he usually was. “We haven’t had sex since this morning, and Yuto looks really good, right now.” He grinned at his own words.

Well, at least Hyojong’s boner was gone.

Hyojong had never seen Yuto stand up so fast. His cheeks were red from his boyfriend’s words, though. “We’ll be leaving, now,” Yuto stated.

Hyojong snorted at how whipped Yuto was.

“Goodbye, everyone,” Kino grinned. He grabbed Yuto’s hand and started pulling him towards the door. “Thank you for having us, it was nice to see you all.” He waved, allowed Yuto to give a nod, and pulled the both of them out of Hyojong’s apartment.

“God, they’re gross,” Hyojong grimaced.

“I think it’s cute,” Jinho cooed.

“Trust us,” Wooseok said, looking at Hyojong, Shinwon, and Yanan. “Nothing they’re about to do is _cute_.”

That was really funny to Hwitaek, for some reason.

“It’s true,” Wooseok said. “They’re really _open_ with their relationship, in a way they really shouldn’t be.”

Shinwon nodded, looking like he’d just tasted something bitter. “They’re about to do something that is going to haunt this earth until the end of time.” Changgu fell off of the couch, laughing so hard. Shinwon just smiled at him. Hyojong didn’t even know Shinwon could smile, when someone else’s pain wasn’t involved.

Hyojong laughed. “Fuckin’ weird, but very true.”

“I still think it’s cute,” Jinho said, crossing his arms.

Hyojong wrinkled his nose. “It isn’t cute when they start making out in front of you.”

Hongseok stood up, stretching his arms outward. “We should probably get going, too,” he said, looking down at Hwitaek and Hyojong.

“Why?” Jinho whined, puffing out his cheeks and pouting. Hyojong laughed at how cute this strange man was.

Hongseok pat the top of Jinho’s head. “It actually is really late, and we have a lot to do tomorrow.”

“But I’m having _fun_ ,” Jinho whined.

“I know,” Hongseok said. He looked at Hyojong, past Hwitaek’s shoulder. “Thank you for having us. Hui, we’ll see you tomorrow.”

Hwitaek clumsily pushed himself up off of the couch, throwing himself on top of Hongseok. He wrapped his arms around Hongseok, squeezing him as tight as his little body would let him. “Hongseokkie, I’m so glad you came here, today. I’ll miss you so much.”

Hyojong vaguely remembered Hwitaek telling him that he’d done ‘a little bit’ with other guys, but not anything too serious. And Hyojong wondered if Hongseok was one of those men. Because that would make a whole lot of sense. Hongseok obviously knew that Hwitaek had kissed Hyojong. And gotten him high twice, now. Which could be the exact reason that Hongseok kept glaring at Hyojong. Maybe he’d misinterpreted what Hyojong and Hwitaek’s current relationship was. And maybe he was possessive over Hwitaek, or protective, or whatever, and _that_ was the reason he didn’t like Hyojong. It all made sense.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Hongseok laughed, smile wide and bright. “ _If_ you decide to show up, this time.”

Hwitaek didn’t let up, still hugging him tightly. “It’s just a soccer game,” he complained. “I don’t want to be sore. But I’ll probably come this time.” He gave his signature wide grin, face close to Hongseok’s. Hongseok laughed and shook his head. “Just for you, Hongseokkie.”

Hyojong didn’t know what he was feeling—because he’d never felt it before—but he really wanted to hit Hongseok. Even though he hadn’t technically done anything. It was like Hyojong was angry, but it wasn’t quite that. All he knew was that he wanted to punch Hongseok right in his face.

“See you later,” Hyojong said, urging them to leave. “Thanks for the soju,” he nodded at Jinho. He didn’t mind Jinho. He brought alcohol, and he wasn’t obnoxious. Still preppy, but nothing in comparison to the others. Hongseok, on the other hand, he wanted to ground fight.

“Yes!” Hwitaek shouted, moving to cling to Jinho. “I’m so glad you were here, I love you so much!”

“Bye guys!” Changgu shouted, practically startling Hyojong out of his seat. There was literally no reason to yell that loud—ever. Even if he was drunk. Yelling was not permitted.

“Bye,” Hyojong said. He threw a smile in Jinho’s direction, making sure to leave Hongseok out of it. He wanted Hongseok to leave, and stop pestering Hwitaek about what he chose to do. Jinho didn’t bother him so much—he reminded him of his own mother, if she brought him soju.

“See you later,” Jinho grinned, waving a hand. He practically hopped out of the door, taking Hongseok with him. Fucking finally.

Hyojong turned to Wooseok. “I don’t like Hongseok,” he said quickly, as soon as the door clicked shut.

“Wonder why,” Shinwon chimed in, raising his eyebrows.

“I like Hongseok,” Changgu said, bouncing on the couch cushion he was occupying. Hyojong wondered when he’d asked for this guy’s opinion.

Hwitaek wrinkled his nose. “Oh, don’t dislike Hongseok. He’s really great. He’s so nice.”

Hyojong rolled his eyes. “Right.” Of course Hwitaek would say that. Hyojong would probably say that about the people who gave him the time of the day, too. “It’s not my fault he kept glaring at me.”

The red-haired man sat on the couch, in the miniscule space next to Hyojong. Thankfully, he didn’t sit on Hyojong, this time. He did hook a leg over the blond’s. “I’m sure he wasn’t actually glaring. He was probably just trying to be funny. He sort of has a weird sense of humour.”

Without thinking about it, Hyojong pushed Hwitaek’s leg off of him. He wondered when Hwitaek had gotten so annoyingly comfortable with him. “Don’t think so.” Whenever he moved, he could feel how drunk and high he was. Maybe it was this feeling that made him say what he said next. “Is he one of the guys that you did stuff?” Not that Hyojong really cared. He was trying to solve a mystery, that was all.

“What?” Hwitaek asked loudly, his face turning red. “No, not even close.” He shook his head quickly, looking at Hyojong like he’d just lost his damned mind.

“ _Dude_ ,” Wooseok said, scolding Hyojong more than anything. Hyojong frowned.

“Sweetie,” Shinwon sighed, in the way that meant he was a fucking idiot. “You know that Hongseok and Jinho are a thing, right?”

“Well,” Hongseok said, knitting his eyebrows. “I do, _now_.” Even though Hongseok and Hwitaek’s current and past relationship status didn’t really matter to Hyojong, it helped clear things up. Hongseok probably didn’t dislike Hyojong just because Hwitaek had kissed Hyojong. Hongseok was just apparently just a jackass.

Hwitaek nodded slowly. “They’re not officially dating, but…”

“They might as well be,” Shinwon said.

“Huh.” Hyojong couldn’t see it. He liked Jinho. He wasn’t annoying, and he was nice, and relatively cool. Hongseok was the opposite of all of that. “Are all of you staying?” he asked. He knew that Hwitaek would probably be staying until an unholy hour of the night, just because he liked to socialize, and he never shut up. He just wanted to make sure that the other four wouldn’t leave him alone with Hwitaek. He was feeling particularly horny, tonight, and lacked self-control.

“Yeah,” Wooseok said. “Unlike our other friends, we’re not in a rush to leave and have sex.”

“That’s because you’re decent people,” Hyojong said. Yuto and Kino were _not_ decent people. They were terrible, awful people, who were doing disgusting things to each other, as they spoke.

“Yet,” Yanan said softly, putting the tip of his index finger on the point of Wooseok’s nose.

“Never mind.” Hyojong wrinkled his nose.

“I’ll stay for a while,” Shinwon said. “But I’m hungry as fuck, so I’m going to have to leave at some point.”

“Hey!” Changgu yelled, practically murdering Hyojong. He kept forgetting that Changgu was here, until he yelled, and damn near startled Hyojong to death. Changgu was grinning at Shinwon, or rather, Shin _pon_. “Do you like McDonald’s?” _Why_ did this kid yell every single fucking word?

“Uh.” Shinwon acted like he was so cool, but Hyojong had never seen anyone _less_ cool. “It’s my favourite place. Like, ever.” He gave a small, nervous smile.

“Heck yes!” Changgu grinned, bouncing up and down. “Do you want to go there, after this? I am drunk and hungry.”

Hyojong was one-hundred-percent sure that Shinwon was having an orgasm, right now.

Shinwon gave a blank-faced nod, eyes wide. “Okay.” Good answer to a yes or no question, as expected of Hyojong’s dear friend, Shinpon.

Changgu bounced on his knees excitedly, and then threw his arms around Shinwon in a tackle. “Yes!” he celebrated, swinging Shinwon’s beanpole of a body from side-to-side.

Shinwon was so far gone, he couldn’t even muster up the strength to put an expression on his face. Hyojong wondered if he was dead, now.

Wooseok stretched his arm out to poke at Hyojong. When the blond turned to look at him, he frowned. “The fuck is up with him?”

Hyojong leaned over Hwitaek to talk to Wooseok, practically pushing the older man forward. “He’s been creaming his pants over Changgu since the kid got here.” There was no better wat to explain it, really.

“Really?” Hwitaek asked. Hyojong nodded.

“That’s so _weird_ ,” Wooseok said, wrinkling his nose. Yanan nodded in agreement. Shinwon was acting so opposite of how he usually did. It was easy to pick up on.

“Aw,” Hwitaek sighed, looking at the way Shinwon was being strangled by Changgu. “I love it. They’re cute.”

“It is weird,” Hyojong agreed with Wooseok. “Shinwon’s such a bitch, you know? This guy is _so_ much.”

Hwitaek nodded, and leaned his shoulder against Hyojong. “Changgu is super energetic,” he said. Hyojong would have been more annoyed by Hwitaek leaning on him, but Hyojong was amazingly crossfaded. And Hwitaek was really fucking warm, so it was actually kind of comfortable. He would rather die than admit that, though. “He’s cool, and I love him, but he’s really loud.”

If Hwitaek thought _he_ was loud, Hyojong didn’t want to be around this guy. He could appreciate being loud, too—he and Wooseok were often loud about dumb shit, just because they thought it was funny. But there was definitely a limit, and he didn’t love when it got exceeded.

Shinwon, resurrected from the land of everlasting orgasms, looked at Hyojong, a faint blush on his cheeks. Who knew Ko Shinwon could do such a thing? “We’ll leave in a little bit,” he said. He cleared his throat, and nervously glanced over at Changgu, who was still grinning.

“Leave whenever,” Hyojong said, ending his words with a loud yawn. Hwitaek snickered, pressing even closer to Hyojong. Hyojong wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t mind it, too much.

“You’re not getting tired, are you?” Wooseok chuckled.

Hyojong shook his head, his hair lightly brushing against Hwitaek’s cheek. They were _far_ too close. “Nah, dude. I could stay awake all night.”

 

Hyojong woke up sweaty, thirsty, and very confused. Sweaty, because it was too fucking hot. Thirsty, because he was sweaty from being hot. And confused, because _who the hell_ was he laying on? Whoever it was, could have been a literal fucking space heater.

He sat up, rubbing at his eyes, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Okay, he was at his apartment. It was a real fucking mess, too, and everything smelled like beer and weed. Right. The party. Yuto and Kino had left to have sex. Jinho and Hongseok had left, too, to do whatever preps did at this time. Sleep, maybe. Wooseok and Yanan’s side of the couch was taken up by Hyojong’s legs, now. Shinwon’s seat was empty, and so was Changgu’s. Which meant… the person Hyojong had been sleeping on. God fucking damn it.

Hyojong twisted around, and sure enough, there was a red-haired man sleeping on the couch. Hyojong had apparently been laying the back of his head on Hwitaek’s stomach. He kind of wanted to die, but Hwitaek also looked painfully cute, sleeping like this. He wasn’t talking, for one thing. That was nice. He looked so relaxed, for once, his eyes gently closed, his lips out in their natural pout. His skin was a tiny bit oily, but it just made him look shiny. He was pleasantly honey-coloured, in Hyojong’s apartment lighting, his hair a faded strawberry.

“Hey,” Hyojong said, lightly shaking Hwitaek’s shoulder, “wake up.”

Hwitaek slowly blinked his eyes open, looking up at Hyojong. “Huh?” he muttered, halfway sitting up. “What’s happening?”

Hyojong stood up, trying to make sure Hwitaek didn’t figure out how they’d been sleeping. “We apparently fell asleep,” he explained. “Everyone else left, too.”

“Oh,” Hwitaek said. He sat up quickly, and the rigid, bothersome Hwitaek was back. “I can leave, too, if you want.” He looked at the door nervously, as if he was going to have to make a run for it, at any given point.

“You’re fine,” Hyojong said. “Do you want to eat something?” He was hungry as all hell. Weed, alcohol, and napping made for one, very hungry man. He needed food, like, now.

“Uh… sure?” Hwitaek said. His shirt was already sort of rolled up by his hip, but then he stretched. The whole hem of the thing lifted up from his waistband, showing the flat plane of his stomach.

Hyojong cleared his throat. “Will you eat Chinese food?”

“Of course,” Hwitaek nodded. “Everyone likes Chinese food.”

Hyojong shrugged. “I didn’t know if you’re one of those people who liked to eat organic bullshit, or whatever.” Preppy people tended to do shit like that, a lot.

 

“No.” Hwitaek shook his head, his hair falling back from it’s previous tangled state. He smiled, “that’s Hongseok.”

Hyojong didn’t succeed in trying to not roll his eyes. “Are you sure you didn’t blow him, or something?” He got it, Hongseok was great. He didn’t need to hear more of it than he already had.

“ _No_ ,” Hwitaek insisted. “I haven’t ever… done…that.” His ears were pink.

“I thought you said you’d ‘ _done stuff_?’ Have you at least _gotten_ a blowjob?” Hyojong asked. He didn’t really want to know, though.

“ _Listen_ ,” Hwitaek said. “I wanted to give one, once, but then my gag reflex was really bad, so I started crying. And _yes_ , I’ve gotten a couple. But I usually just do… hand stuff.” He was crossing his arms over his chest, pouting up at Hyojong.

Hwitaek _did_ have really nice hands. Small, but pretty. Thin fingers, soft palms, Precise, probably. They probably felt _really_ good. Hyojong briefly imagined those fingers wrapped around somone—maybe him—and he didn’t want to stop thinking about it. He sort of wanted to jerk off. Which wasn’t ideally timed, so he cleared his throat, and tried thinking about what Yuto and Kino left to do.

“I’m ordering food,” he said. He found his phone on the floor, under an empty can of beer.

“Have you… you know.” Hyojong didn’t understand how someone who had actively sucked his face until he almost came, could act to shy about things like this. “Done that?”

Hyojong furrowed his eyebrows. “What, gotten a blowjob? Yeah, dude, I’m twenty-three.” If he knew someone that was in college, and _hadn’t_ gotten a blowjob, he’d probably make fun of them.

“ _Given_ one,” Hwitaek said.

“Well, yeah,” Hyojong said. And he was pretty fucking good at it, but he didn’t want to say that. He didn’t think saying that to Hwitaek would go over too well. “Once again, I’m gay and in college. I’ve done stuff.”

Hwitaek pursed his lips. “Oh.” He crossed his legs on the couch, making him look even smaller than usual. In a cute way. “Do you like it?” he asked.

Hyojong choked on air, as per usual. He was really wishing he was still high and drunk, right about now. How fucking long had they slept? “Don’t you think that’s a little personal?” he asked. He didn’t want to talk about sex with Hwitaek. It wasn’t good for him.

“I was just curious,” Hwitaek defended. “Never mind.”

Hyojong set his phone down. Doing anything with Hwitaek present was impossible. Luckily, his hunger was stronger than his hatred, so he was able to order the food. “I don’t want to reveal my entire sex life to a stranger.” He may have just made a huge mistake.

Hwitaek uncrossed his legs and sat up straight. “I’m a stranger?” he asked. Yeah, Hyojong had just made a huge mistake.

But, to be honest, Hyojong didn’t care. Or, he did, but not enough. “As in, we hardly know each other. I don’t want someone I hardly know, knowing every aspect of my past and present sex life.” He didn’t have a present sex life. But Hwitaek didn’t need to know that. He didn’t _need_ to know anything.

“We know each other,” Hwitaek said calmly. “We’re around each other all the time. We’re friends.”

“ _You_ say we’re friends. I’ve never agreed.” Might as well just go in. He’d never wanted to be friends with Hwitaek. Since day one. He might as well get that established, now.

Hwitaek stood up, his eyes following Hyojong. “You really don’t think we’re friends?” he asked. He sounded offended. Maybe sad. Hyojong felt like he’d done something wrong. But he wasn’t sure how he could fix it. Or if he should. “We hang out _all the time_ , Hyojong. We talk to each other. We _act_ like friends, because we _are_ friends.”

“You hang out with my friends, I hang out with my friends. But we don’t really hang out with each other.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Hwitaek said quickly.

“Whatever,” Hyojong said. This wasn’t what they’d been talking about. “You can’t get offended because I don’t want to tell you about my sex life.”

Hwitaek rolled his eyes, and it was only kind of hot. “I’m not offended because you won’t tell me, I’m offended because you’re really mean sometimes, you know that? Why don’t you want to tell me, anyway?”

“Because that’s _my sex life_ ,” Hyojong argued.

“So?”

“ _So_ , not everyone likes sharing every fucking detail about their life,” Hyojong explained. Hwitaek really made his blood boil.

“That doesn’t make sense to me,” Hwitaek said, looking at Hyojong.

Hyojong clenched his jaw. He just woke up, and Hwitaek was already pissing him off. Typical. “I know it doesn’t.” Hwitaek didn’t understand _anything_. “Some people are able to shut their fucking mouths, Hwitaek.”

“I don’t want to shut my mouth,” Hwitaek frowned. “Otherwise we’d _never_ talk, because you act like everything I do is awful.”

“It is,” Hyojong said, before Hwitaek could really even finish his sentence. He was crossing his arms, looking at Hwitaek. They were only standing about a couple feet apart, and it was really tempting Hyojong to just swing, and hit him, or something. He needed _some_ way to blow off some off the steam he’d accumulated by speaking to the class president. “You really fucking piss me off, Hwitaek.”

Hwitaek rolled his eyes. “Oh, what a surprise. I’m so nice to you, Hyojong, even when you’re kind of being mean to me. Because I think you’re really cool, and funny, and most of the time you’re nice, too. At least I can tell people how I feel without freaking out.”

Low blow, but okay. Hyojong could work with a low blow. “I just told you how I feel didn’t I?” He put his hands on Hwitaek’s shoulders, and shook him, a little. “You really fucking piss me off, all the fucking time. Because you never stop fucking talking, and we get it, you’re the perfect student, but not all of us give a shit, okay? I don’t fucking _care_ that you’re the class president, or that you have a thousand friends. It just makes me angrier.” He shoved Hwitaek a little, just enough to send him back. “I care that you fucking kissed me without thinking about it, why can’t you just fucking chill out for once? Just think things through before you do something stupid.”

“You’re still mad that I kissed you?” Hwitaek asked, eyes wide. His skin looked really nice. “You can’t be mad. You kissed me, too.”

“I am fucking mad,” Hyojong said. “Because you did it without thinking about what it’d do to me. You do that _all the fucking time_.”

“I do what?” Hwitaek scoffed.

Hyojong groaned, and took a step away from the red-haired man. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I don’t have a lot of self-control. And all you do is get me more and more worked up, but there’s nothing I can really _do_ about it, because you’re so fucking _annoying_ , sometimes.”

“How do I get you worked up?” Hwitaek scowled.

Hyojong laughed bitterly. “Are you kidding me? You act so fucking virginal, all the time, but then you _do_ things, and _say_ things, and it’s really fucking annoying, and all I want to do is put you in your stupid fucking place.”

Hwitaek just shrugged. He wasn’t smiling. “Where exactly is my place?” he asked.

“I don’t fucking know. Somewhere _else_.”

“Put me in my place, then,” Hwitaek shrugged. He sounded so nonchalant. It was Hyojong who was worked up, this time. And that made Hyojong even more angry.

Hyojong shook his head, taking a deep breath. He didn’t want to be so angry, while Hwitaek was so calm. Hwitaek’s lips were a subtle shade of pink. “You can’t just be so fucking annoying, but still be attractive,” he said. “Pick one or the fucking other, I’m sick of it.”

A smile may have twitched at the corners of Hwitaek’s lips. “You think I’m attractive?”

Hyojong rolled his eyes. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Make me.”

Hyojong clenched his jaw. “You piss me off so much.”

“Do something about it, then,” Hwitaek said. A slow smile crept onto his features. His eyes seemed darker than normal, and they were burning a hole right through Hyojong’s face.

Admittedly, Hyojong was taken aback. “What?”

“Do something about it.” Hwitaek tilted his head to the side, just barely. This time, it wasn’t cute. It was like he was daring Hyojong to actually do something about it. Challenging him.

Hyojong stared at Hwitaek, for a moment. Hwitaek was actually out of his fucking mind, wasn’t he? To be fair, so was Hyojong. He was really, really fucking crazy, and he never knew what he was going to do next. But he knew he wanted to do something about Hwitaek. About the sexy, loud nuisance that Hwitaek continued to be.

Hyojong grabbed the back of Hwitaek’s stupid neck, and slammed their mouths together.

And he did something about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment telling me how you feel about this crazy chapter! It's about to get pretty spicy, and I'd love to read how you feel about that! Any comments are appreciated ^^
> 
> Instagram: hypjpng


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _This was Hyojong, doing something about it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I am so, so sorry about this chapter taking as long as it did, especially since I left on a cliffhanger. This chapter is really long, and what a lot of you are hoping for, so I really hope it makes up for my tardiness!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and as always, enjoy!

Hyojong snapped.

He finally fucking lost his mind.

It was a wonder he’d lasted this long, with how much Hwitaek pissed him off. And with how much Hyojong wanted to do this.

He had Hwitaek against the wall. It was about time. He had Hwitaek against the wall, and their mouths were pressed together so hard, it actually hurt. But it was good. Hyojong, for once in his stupid life, finally had control.

He was kissing Hwitaek, rough and aggressive, like he’d wanted to do for so long. His tongue was against Hwitaek’s, the other man’s tongue so soft and wet, he felt like he was going to go crazy.

His hands were curled in the collar of Hwitaek’s shirt. Hwitaek’s hands had started limp, at his sides. When Hyojong had slammed him against the wall, Hwitaek’s body had just bounced, hands hanging at his sides, where they naturally fell. But then Hyojong had kissed him, like he’d promised to never do again, and the temperature in the room felt like it had gone up by a hundred degrees. And Hwitaek’s dreadfully moisturized lips were sliding against Hyojong’s without even a moment of hesitation.

Hyojong _knew_ his stubble was probably scratching at Hwitaek’s face. The more Hyojong had kissed him, the more he’d pressed him against the wall, the less patient Hwitaek had gotten. At first, his hands had just _grazed_ over his forearms, raising goosebumps on his skin. Then, they’d squeezed up his biceps, over his shoulders. His hands had rested at the sides of Hyojong’s neck, his cool palms against Hyojong’s warmer skin. And now those pretty, dainty hands were on Hyojong’s face.

“Finally,” Hwitaek breathed, his voice so quiet Hyojong almost didn’t catch it. His lips were still moving against the younger man’s, when he’d exhaled the world. He’d sighed against Hyojong’s mouth, not breaking the kiss to talk, even for a second.

Finally? Of _course_ Hwitaek had wanted this to happen. At the time, Hyojong thought he was going to punch Hwitaek in the face. But, of course, he had given Hwitaek exactly what he had wanted.

Hyojong bit at Hwitaek’s lower lip, tugging at it with his teeth as he pulled away. He looked at Hwitaek, and tried not to groan at how red his lips were. “I can’t believe how mad you make me,” he said. Hwitaek really, really did make him mad. He was mad that Hwitaek never shut the hell up, and that he expected people to tell him every aspect of their lives. He was mad that Hwitaek was the class president. And he was _really_ mad at how good at kissing Hwitaek was. “How the _fuck_ are you so good at kissing?” It had only been a couple of minutes of kissing, so far, but Hyojong’s whole body was tingling. Hwitaek knew exactly how to make Hyojong’s head spin. His lips felt as good as they looked, which Hyojong didn’t think was possible, nor did he think it was fair.

Hwitaek’s face burst into a wide smile. “You think I’m a good kisser?”

What an annoying question. Hyojong knew that Hwitaek just wanted to hear the blond compliment him. Hyojong decided not to answer. Instead, he pressed Hwitaek flat against the wall, until their bodies were flush. Probably not the best choice, if Hyojong was trying to avoid getting turned on. But it was a little late for that, wasn’t it?

Hyojong crushed his mouth back against Hwitaek’s. He hated himself for doing this—there was no doubt about that. Especially after he’d made such a bug fuss about it, the first time. But it felt so _good_. And it had felt, for weeks, like the tension between the two of hem had wound itself tighter and tighter. A room could only get so hot, before someone decided to do something about it.

This was Hyojong, doing something about it.

The red-haired man’s lips moved against Hyojong’s, as he spoke. “You’re a good kisser, too,” he panted. His fingers moved to glide through Hyojong’s hair. “I don’t think you’re too mean,” he said, referring to what Wooseok had said about Hyojong’s kissing style. “I don’t even think you’re mean enough.”

Hyojong groaned out loud, this time. Hwitaek was so _fucked up_. In the absolute best way possible. “Stop _doing_ that,” he said. He pulled back so he could get a better look at the older man.

Hwitaek blinked. “Doing what?” He looked so genuinely lost, it was hard for Hyojong to be mad about it.

“It’s like all you _do_ ,” Hyojong said. “You just turn me on, and turn me on, and then you leave me hanging.” Every single time Hyojong was around Hwitaek, that was all that happened. It really ground Hyojong’s gears. In a sex way. He was so pent up, just from what Hwitaek did to him. Pent up with anger and sexual frustration.

“I don’t do that,” Hwitaek said.

Maybe he didn’t do it on purpose. But he did it. More often than he didn’t. “Yes you fucking do,” Hyojong snapped. “You do it all the time, and you never do anything about it.” He was sick of Hwitaek _saying_ things, and sitting on his lap, and looking as good as he constantly did. The class president wasn’t supposed to turn Hyojong on.

Hwitaek’s lips parted, making a small, surprised circle shape. “Do you want me to do something about it?” he asked quietly.

The younger man pursed his lips. “I want you to _stop doing it_ ,” he said. “I don’t _love_ getting hard in public.”

Before Hyojong could remember how to breathe, or register what was going on, Hwitaek was dropping to his knees. Holy fuck, Hwitaek was on in knees, in front of Hyojong. The class president. On his knees.

Hwitaek bat his eyelashes up at Hyojong. Hyojong almost came. “Let me do this, then.” Never in a million years did Hyojong think his eyes would be blessed with such a sight.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Hyojong asked, his voice higher than it usually was. He was too shocked to let Hwitaek go on. Even though this was, like, Hyojong’s number one fantasy. And if he hadn’t been in kind of a panic, he would have literally killed to be in this situation. He grabbed Hwitaek by the upper arms, and pulled him to an upright position.

Hwitaek rolled his eyes with a huff. “So you don’t want me to do anything about it?” he asked. “Ca you make up your mind so I know what to do?” He pursed his lips. “Really, Hyojong, if you want me to do something, tell me. If you don’t, tell me.. I don’t know why you have to be so confusing all the—”

Hyojong really wanted Hwitaek to stop talking. So, he did what he’d wanted to do so many times, and he shut Hwitaek up with his own mouth. His own lips were a little chapped, but it didn’t really matter, because Hwitaek’s lips were so _soft_. They seemed to just _melt_ under Hyojong, partially because they were so gentle and smooth, and partially because Hwitaek just _gave in_ to Hyojong, without even hesitating.

“Come on, Hyojong,” Hwitaek whined. His hand slid from Hyojong’s shoulder, to the hem of his shirt. His fingertips wriggled under the waistband of Hyojong’s jeans. “I _want_ to do something for you.”

“No, you don’t,” Hyojong refused. No way Hwitaek wanted to do that. “You’re the class president.” Enough said.

“Okay?” Hwitaek scowled. “And you’re hot. I thought _I_ was the one who left _you_ hanging.”

Hyojong cleared his throat. “You’re turned on?” was all he could manage to say.

The red haired man laughed. “I don’t know what else you’d expect, Hyojong. If you kiss me like _that_ , you should know I’d want to do more.”

“More?” Hyojong practically squeaked. He wondered when he’d become so weak and embarrassing. _This_ is what not being sexually active did to him. “Like what more?” His brain was short circuiting. He didn’t know what was happening.

Goosebumps formed on Hyojong’s skin as Hwitaek ran his hands up the length of Hyojong’s torso. His wrists rested on Hyojong’s shoulders, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. Hyojong was pretty sure he was being seduced. “All of it,” he said in a cutesy voice, ruining the whole mood. Maybe for the better. Hyojong laughed. A cutesy voice at a time like this. It was annoying, but at least in was entertaining. “Really, I know you said you wouldn’t sleep with me, but I don’t—”

“I lied.”

“What?” Hwitaek asked, round eyes widening.

Hyojong didn’t move away from Hwitaek’s body, the whole time he spoke. “Truthfully, I _don’t_ really want to sleep with you.” Hwitaek looked offended. “You really piss me off, and you can be so fucking annoying. And you’re the class president.” Hwitaek didn’t look any less offended. Hyojong thought he was doing a fine job of explaining everything. He sighed loudly. “You’re really fucking distracting, though. Shouldn’t the class president be, like, virginal, or innocent, or something? Like, I don’t know, not erotic?”

“I don’t know what it is with you and me being he class president. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to have fun.” Hwitaek was still playing with the short hair at the back of Hyojong’s head. When he spoke, that obnoxious cutesy voice was back. “I want to have fun with you, Hyojongie.”

Everything that was happening was absolutely ridiculous. Hyojong laughed. “Think you can go half an hour without using that voice?” Hwitaek nodded quickly. “Also, don’t call me ‘Hyojongie.’”

Hwitaek’s plump lips pouted out. “Why not? It’s cute.” It was _just_ like Hwitaek to argue about something so miniscule.

And it was just like Hyojong to argue back. “It doesn’t fit me.” It was an annoying, childish nickname. There was no point to it.

“Are you trying to say you’re not cute?” Hwitaek snorted. “You’re funny.”

Hyojong had been called a number of things, but ‘cute’ was not one of them. People didn’t think Hyojong was cute. He rolled his eyes. “Are you going to stop arguing with me, or can I go back to sleep?” If he wasn’t going to get his hands on Hwitaek any more, he didn’t want to waste time being away. Pathetic, maybe. But it was true.

“Kiss me, again,” Hwitaek whined. He stuck his lips out. He was lucky Hyojong was so fucking _weak_.

“Fine,” Hyojong sighed, leaning forward. Their lips pressed together and for a moment, Hyojong could feel just how full Hwitaek’s cushion-like lips were. But Hwitaek was parting those lips, moving them so they’d perfectly slot with Hyojong’s. Hwitaek was pressing Hyojong closer with the hands he had at the back of Hyojong’s head, fingers tightening in brown hair.

Hwitaek was the best kisser Hyojong had ever kissed. His mouth was soft and giving, but he was _so_ fucking eager. He bit Hyojong’s lips exactly how he wanted them to be bitten, and he sucked on his lips and tongue to the same effect.

The last Hyojong had checked, his hands were resting on Hwitaek’s shoulders. They had apparently inched inward, though, because now they were snug around Hwitaek’s neck. Not squeezing. Not moving. Not doing anything. Just resting around his thin, pretty neck. Hyojong pulled away to take in the sight. It wasn’t a bad one. Hwitaek looked good, like this.

The red-haired man was breathing quickly, trying to catch his breath from the kissing. So was Hyojong, to be completely fair. Hwitaek’s eyes were glassy, and dark, and his lips were red. He looked at Hyojong for a moment, before his lips parted to speak. “Are you going to choke me?” he asked quietly. He was practically whispering.

“I don’t know,” Hyojong murmured. He would enjoy it. Hyojong would. Hwitaek would look nice. Hyojong shook his head, trying to snap himself out of it. “No,” he said. He smiled. “Maybe later.” He didn’t know what he was doing. He made fun of Shinwon for being so out of the game, yet here Hyojong was. Trying to restrain himself from strangling the class president. Even though the thought was appealing.

Hwitaek smiled. His teeth looked even whiter against the red of his puffy lips. “You can, if you want.” He looked like what he imagined an angel would look like. Besides the fact that his hands were slithering down Hyojong’s body, until they met the button on Hyojong’s jeans. Hyojong couldn’t look away from his face. He was sort of afraid to, honestly. He was afraid of what he’d see Hwitaek’s fingers doing. “I don’t mind,” His fingers easily undid the button of Hyojong’s jeans. His fingers dragged the zipper down, all the way. Hyojong didn’t think he’d ever been harder in his life.

“What’re you doing?” Hyojong whispered. He _knew_ what Hwitaek was doing. He just couldn’t believe it.

Hwitaek winked, the same wink he’d given Hyojong when he’d introduced himself. Hyojong didn’t know why he remembered that so clearly. “I really want to do this,” Hwitaek smiled.

He was on his knees, again.

It really wasn’t fair for someone to look so pure and angelic, while they were kneeling like this. Hwitaek bat his eyelashes up at Hyojong. His tongue came out to _barely_ wet his lips. Hyojong squeezed his eyes shut momentarily, so he wouldn’t come in his pants. “Are you going to get mad at me, or are you going to let me, this time?”

Hyojong was trying to use his annoyance from Hwitaek to tone down his arousal. It wasn’t working. He grit his teeth and looked down at Hwitaek. “Fine,” he grunted.

The red-haired man grinned, eyes twinkling up at the blond. It was annoying how cute he looked when he smiled. Hyojong didn’t think he could really say anything, though, considering the position he was in. “Remember,” Hwitaek said, wetting his lips again. He _had_ to stop doing that. “I’ve never done this before. So it probably won’t be as good as, uh… as you’re used to. I don’t really know what I’m doing. I’m just going off of what I _do_ know, which isn’t a lot. So, feel free to tell me what to do, or to stop, or whatever it is you want. I’m actually kind of nervous, sorry.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Hyojong said. He was getting dangerously hard. “It isn’t difficult. Just, uh, stop talking.” And then, because he was in no place to be rude. “Please.”

Hwitaek smiled ridiculously wider, and got his fingers under the waistband of Hyojong’s jeans and boxer. He pulled them down until they were resting around Hyojong’s thighs, the blond’s hard cock springing free. He hissed as cool air hit sensitive skin.

“Oh,” Hwitaek breathed, his eyes going wide. “You’re _big_.”

Hyojong’s cock literally twitched at the compliment. Good god, it really had been too long since he’d gotten off. The chances of him lasing more than ren seconds were getting slimmer and simmer. He took a deep breath. Fucking hell. “Did you think I was going to be small?” he asked, because it was the only way for him to not come untouched.

Hwitaek licked his lips, again. Jesus fucking Christ. “No,” he breathed, eyeing Hyojong’s cock. Hyojong was starting to feel self-conscious. “But, you know, you’re about the same size as me, and we’re not exactly huge people, so…” His eyes moved up to Hyojong’s face, and he grinned. “I’m pleasantly surprised.”

“I’m flattered,” Hyojong said dryly. “Are you going to stare forever?”

Hwitaek wrapped a dainty hand around the base of Hyojong’s cock. Holy fuck. His hands were so soft. He moved his hand, just a little, and Hyojong had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from groaning. Hwitaek’s hands were small, but he was applying _just_ enough pressure to make it feel fucking amazing. “Maybe,” Hwitaek smiled. He bit his lower lip. “I kind of want to, but I won’t.” He looked back down, and leaned forward.

And then Hyojong’s brain was turned into something akin to soggy noodles.

Hwitaek leaned forward and pressed his tongue against the very tip of Hyojong’ length. And his tongue was impossibly soft, and wet and warm. Hyojong groaned. Embarrassingly loudly, too. He could have sworn he was Hwitaek smile, but all thoughts of that were immediately diminished when Hwitaek brought his lips into the equation. Those insane, plump lips stretched open a little wider, and wrapped just under the ridge of the head of Hyojong’s cock. The inside of his mouth was burning hot, and Hyojong could feel his tongue, and his lips, and the insides of his cheeks all touching him. And then Hwitaek hollowed his cheeks, and sucked. _Hard_.

“ _Oh my god_ ,” Hyojong groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. He couldn’t stand to see Hwitaek’s pink lips around him.

Hwitaek pulled off with a pop, and sighed contentedly. “Good so far?” he asked.

“Yeah, yeah,” Hyojong said quickly. “It’s good. Can you not stop, though? Trust me, I’ll stop you if it’s not good.”

Hwitaek nodded with a cute, “okay,” and leaned back in. He held Hyojong steady with one hand, and opened his mouth. His lips licked around the head, his tongue gently prodding at the slit. Hyojong didn’t understand how someone’s lips could be so wet, but he didn’t care. He just appreciated it. Hwitaek suckled on the head for a moment, making Hyojong’s hips twitch. He moved forward, soft lips easily dragging over Hyojong’s skin, tongue soft along the underside. His eyes were looking up, focused on Hyojong’s face, trying to see his reactions.

Hyojong, honestly, didn’t want to give him any reactions. He wasn’t the type of person to react a lot, anyway. But when Hwitaek pulled back, giving a clean, hard suck, Hyojong couldn’t help the groan that left his throat.

The older man took this as a cue to start bobbing his head. His lips were tight around Hyojong, mouth pulled pleasurably tight. Whenever he pulled back, his tongue slithered against the underside. His free hand came up to rest on Hyojong’s hip. Hyojong couldn’t tell if he was pulling him closer, or holding him still. Hwitaek did end up gagging, as soon as he got more than halfway down. But Hyojong didn’t really mind.

“Dude,” Hyojong said, using his fingers to brush some hair off of Hwitaek’s forehead. He set his hand on top of Hwitaek’s head, feeling the soft red hair there. “You don’t have to go that far.”

Hwitaek pulled off of Hyojong, looking up at the blond. “I want to,” he pouted. “I hate that I gag.”

Hyojong threaded his fingers through silky strands of red. “Your gag reflex will go away if you do this more,” Hyojong explained. He nodded towards the hand that was currently wrapped around the base of his cock. “Just use your hand. That’s what it’s there for.”

Hwitaek nodded, happily soaking in what Hyojong was telling him to do, as always. “Okay,” he chirped. He pumped his hand around Hyojong’s shaft, easily moving, due to the spit coating his skin. Hyojong’s cock was close to Hwitaek’s face, the red-haired man smiling brightly up at Hyojong. “Do you like it?” he asked.

Hyojong used his fingers to push Hwitaek’s bangs back, looking down at his smiling face. “Yeah,” he breathed.

Hwitaek’s grin widened, and he leaned back in. He sucked at the head, again, running his tongue under the ridge, and started bobbing his head. It was faster, this time. Hyojong could hear the little wet noises that escaped Hwitaek’s mouth, whenever he surged forward. His hand was twisting around Hyojong’s base, pumping over what he couldn’t fit in his mouth. He sucked really hard, both when he came forward, and when he leaned back. It felt _really_ fucking good, to the point where Hyojong was _sure_ Hwitaek was having to deal with a lot of precome.

Hyojong groaned loudly when Hwitaek’s lips met his hand, covering his entire cock in heat. “Fuck,” he breathed, fingers slightly tightening in red hair. At that, Hwitaek gave a satisfied hum, and Hyojong had to clench his jaw to keep from finishing. Hwitaek’s tongue slipped over the slit, lapping off any precome that had gathered there.

The doorbell of Hyojong’s apartment rang, and there were two knocks against the door.

Both Hyojong and Hwitaek froze in place, a hand caught in Hwitaek’s hair, and lips pressed around Hyojong’s cock.

“Oh, fuck,” Hyojong said. He pulled himself out of Hwitaek’s mouth, untangling his hand from his hair. “Remember how I was ordering Chinese food?”

Hwitaek stood quickly. “Is that it?” Hyojong nodded. “Worst timing ever. I was just starting to have fun.” He winked, and Hyojong literally wheezed.

“As much as I’d like to dwell on that, I need you to go get it.” Hyojong pat Hwitaek’s bangs down, so it didn’t look like he’d just been giving the world’s most mind-blowingly good blowjob.

“Me?” Hwitaek worried. He glanced down to the front of his pants, where he was visibly hard. “I don’t know if that’s—”

“Look,” Hyojong said. “I paid online, so all you have to do is tip and sign for me. I would, but I don’t think the delivery guy wants to see this.” His pants were down, and there was no way they were getting back up, any time soon. His entire dick was out, and really fucking hard.

“His loss,” Hwitaek flirted. And then: “I can’t sign for you, that’s illegal.”

Hyojong felt his boner deflate, a little. “Dude, it doesn’t matter. Just do a few squiggly lines, and you’re good. And don’t tip more than five, I’m not trying to go broke.” Hwitaek huffed loudly. “Just do it real fast, so we can continue. He went from so much sensation, to none at all. He was throbbing.

Hwitaek rolled his eyes, and turned to go to the door and open it. Hyojong made sure to stand a ways behind the door, so he wouldn’t be seen. Hwitaek looked a little fucked out, sure, but he was smiling politely, and talking to the person on the other side of the door, so it didn’t even matter. Hwitaek was charming enough to cover up the fact that he’d been giving Hyojong the suck of his life.

Hwitaek shut the door quickly, smile fading as he turned back towards the room. He was holding a bag of Chinese food, , hurriedly looking around for somewhere to put it.

“I don’t care where you put it,” Hyojong said. He was starting to get impatient. “Put it on the floor, I don’t care. Just come here.”

Hwitaek had enough decency to set the box on Hyojong’s coffee table, and rushed to the blond. His lips were back against Hyojong’s his tongue flickering inside of Hyojong’s mouth. Hyojong could taste himself on Hwitaek’s mouth, and it made his head spin. The class president’s mouth tasted delightfully like Hyojong’s cock.

Hwitaek’s pulled away, his lips wet with spit. He smiled, that same eye-creasing smile he always smiled. He looked so happy, he almost looked innocent. And then he said something that almost made Hyojong pass out, he got so turned on. “Should we go to your room?”

#

Hyojong more or less threw Hwitaek onto the bed. Hwitaek sort of bounced, but he hadn’t stopped smiling, so Hyojong figured he was fine. Hyojong crawled on top of Hwitaek after throwing his jeans off, his boxers doing little to obscure his hardness. He pressed a gentle knee between the older man’s legs. He kissed him, again, lips crashing together at full force. Hwitaek was still sort of smiling, so Hyojong was met with a lot of teeth, but he didn’t mind. It still felt good.

“I don’t understand,” Hyojong breathed, kissing over Hwitaek’s skin. He started at his jaw, and moved down to the soft skin of his neck. He was warm against Hyojong’s lips. “How are you so fucking _good_ at giving head?” Someone who had never sucked dick before should _not_ have been as skilled as Hwitaek was. Hyojong couldn’t stress that enough.

Hwitaek’s fingers found Hyojong’s hair easily, running through the strands. His smile was apparent in his voice. “You think I’m good?” He really wanted Hyojong to say it out loud, didn’t he?

The blond rolled his eyes. “Obviously. A little toothy, but nothing I didn’t like.” He kissed Hwitaek on the lips, feeling his smile. “And you didn’t start crying on my dick, so that’s a bonus.” He could feel how hard Hwitaek was, and he couldn’t believe he’d done this much. He’d turned the class president on, just by kissing him.

“I won’t cry,” Hwitaek smiled. “His hands slid down from Hyojong’s hair, to the hem of his shirt. His eyes moved to where his hands were, up tp Hyojong’s face. “But can you _please_ take your shirt off?” He tugged on the fabric to emphasize his point.

Hyojong sat up on his knees. “I guess,” he smiled. He lifted his shirt up off of his body, and dropped it on the floor.

Hwitaek’s lips parted, and he let out a long exhale. His eyes were moving from Hyojong’s shoulders, to his chest, to his stomach, and then down to his hips. Then all over again. Hyojong was feeling pretty good about himself, right about now. Hwitaek licked his lips, amd swallowed hard. When he inhaled, his breath hitched, just enough for Hyojong to notice. His voice was strained. “ _Fuck_.”

There was something really fucking sexy about the way Hwitaek cursed. It sounded foreign, and well enunciated, and so genuine. Like, Hwitaek was so genuinely impressed by Hyojong’s body, that a curse word came out of his preppy little mouth. It was really good for Hyojong’s ego, and even better for his increasing arousal.

“Fuck,” Hyojong echoed, looking down at Hwitaek. He looked dehydrated. Hyojong _felt_ dehydrated. “I’m flattered, honey, but are you just going to keep staring?” If Hwitaek said yes, Hyojong probably wouldn’t have complained. The way Hwitaek was looking at him was hungry. His gaze was hot, and heavy, and Hyojong felt it in the very pit of his stomach. He was sure he could still find a way to get off, even with Hwitaek just staring at him.

Hwitaek didn’t respond, at first. He was too busy dragging his hands down Hyojong’s chest, and down the muscles of his stomach. Hyojong could feel every point of contact like there was hot metal pressing against his skin. Hwitaek shook his head. “It isn’t fair,” he said.

Hyojong cocked his head to the side. “What isn’t fair?” How virginal and gorgeous Hwitaek looked, even though he was lying under Hyojong, and he’d just sucked him off? How _good_ he always looked? How much he affected Hyojong, even when he wasn’t trying to? Yeah, it was pretty unfair, wasn’t it?

Hwitaek’s eyes found Hyojong’s, and he smiled, a little. “How _hot_ you are.”

“I think you underestimate yourself,” Hyojong grinned. Hwitaek was painfully, distractingly hot. “Here, sit up.” Hwitaek did—almost _too_ eagerly—and Hyojong pulled his shirt off and dropped it on the floor, just as carelessly as he had dropped his own. “That’s better.” He leaned back down to kiss Hwitaek on the neck. He tasted good, in a way, almost like his skin itself was sweet. Hyojong licked against it, and let his teeth scrape over the skin, and sucked the soft skin between his lips. He latched himself onto the spot where neck met shoulder, and bit. Hwitaek gasped, and his body jerked with surprise. Hyojong took that as an invitation to suck on the spot, hoping to earn a light mark, there. Hwitaek had such a pretty neck. It’d be a shame to leave it completely unmarked. “Like that?” Hyojong asked, his lips still pressed against Hwitaek’s wet skin.

A happy sigh left Hwitaek’s lips. “Yeah. Feels good.” His hands ran over Hyojong’s biceps, squeezing when Hyojong kissed down the center of his chest. Truthfully, Hyojong was just having fun doing what he’d thought about doing so many times. He could feel Hwitaek’s fingernails pressing tiny crescents into his arms. Hwitaek’s voice was soft and breathy. “When are you going to fuck me, though?”

Hyojong stopped moving his mouth, when he heard that. He sat back up, sort of straddling Hwitaek’s waist, and looked down at the older man with wide eyes. He was pretty sure he was having a hallucination, or something. He ran a hand through his own hair. “You want me to _do that_ to you?” he asked. What sort of fucked up dream was he living in?

Hwitaek laughed. Actually fucking _laughed_. As if Hyojong were the funniest guy on the planet. He wasn’t. “What did you _think_ I wanted to do?” he asked.

“Uh, I don’t know.” Hyojong felt like his head was going to explode. “Fool around, make out, get each other off. I don’t know, not _that_.”

Hwitaek scoffed, sitting up. He was using his elbows as support. “You literally _just_ said you wanted to sleep with me. Kind of. And I _told_ you I waned to do more, and I _also_ said that meant doing _all of it_. I thought we were on the same page.” Apparently not. Hyojong was pretty sure he’d blacked out when they were talking about that. Maybe Hyojong was just fucking stupid.

Was Hyojong sweating? “Are you _sure_ that’s what you want? With _me_?” Hyojong was not the type of person he imagined Hwitaek having sex with. Well. _He_ imagined it, but that was for personal reasons. What he meant, was that it didn’t logically make sense for Hwitaek to have sex with someone like him.

The red-haired man nodded slowly. “Yes,” he said, as if it were obvious. “If you don’t want to, that’s fine. I just thought—”

“I want to.” Oh god. Hyojong _really_ wanted to. “Sorry, I guess I’m still kind of asleep. But, yeah. I want to. Do that. To you. _With_ you.” Nice job, Hyojong. He only sounded like a major fucking virgin. The fact that Hwitaek still wanted to have sex with Hyojong, after that, was a motherfucking phenomenon.

Hwitaek giggled _really_ cutely. It kind of made Hyojong want to die, it was that cute. “Good. Because I want you to do that to and with me, as well.” Hwitaek was a phenomenon.

Maybe Hyojong was having some sort of lucid fever dream. “Great,” Hyojong breathed, sliding back on the bed, off of Hwitaek. He hooked his fingers under the waistband of Hwitaek’s pants, and pulled them off, along with his boxers, Hwitaek’s legs were thin, but surprisingly muscular, just like the rest of him. His cock was lying heavy against his lower stomach, so Hyojong took it into his own hand and pumped over it, a few times. Hwitaek’s breathing got considerably faster. “You’ve never done this before, right? Bottomed?”

Hwitaek shook his head, a soft smile on his lips. “I told you. I had sex, once, and it was with a girl. And I cried.”

“Right.” Hyojong slipped his thumb over the slit of Hwitaek’s cock, earning a quiet gasp. He cleared his throat and reached in the top drawer of his dresser fishing for a mostly-full bottle of lube. He popped the cap off, and stopped moving his hand over Hwitaek. “So you’ve never had anything, uh,” he had to clear his throat about three more times before he could even _think_ about finishing his sentence. “Inside you?”

Hwitaek’s gaze was focused on the way Hyojong coated his fingers in lube. He gave a breathy laugh. “Oh. I have.” The tops of his cheeks were red, and Hyojong couldn’t tell if it was from arousal or bashfulness. Hyojong felt like he was going to explode. “Fingers. My own. Kind of a lot, lately. Now that you mention it.”

The thought of Hwitaek fingering himself was far, _far_ too much for Hyojong to handle. He couldn’t actually imagine anything _hotter_ , to be honest.

Sometimes, Hyojong completely lost control of his mouth, and opened it, even when he didn’t want a response. “Why a lot, lately?” he asked, even though he’d rather _not_ know, because he was already burdened with too much sexual energy.

Hyojong smiled so wide, his nose wrinkled with the expression. “Oh, Hyojong,” he sighed. “You’re not the only one that got worked up, you know.”

Hyojong literally had to close his eyes for a few seconds, to keep from coming. “Oh,” he squeaked out. He could hear Hwitaek cackle. He was still warming the lube on his fingers, trying to muster up any self-control he had left in his body. He opened his eyes and slid a finger down between Hwitaek’s legs. “I love that, and I’d love to hear more about that another time, but if you want me to last at all, you gotta stop being sexy.”

Hwitaek bit his lip in a smile, and Hyojong couldn’t help but to smile at how cute the redhead was. “Okay,” Hwitaek grinned, wiggling a little.

Hyojong ran a slick finger up the inside of Hwitaek’s thigh, listening to the way Hwitaek inhaled a sharp breath. “You really make me mad, sometimes, you know that?” he asked, but his voice was admittedly soft. He said it more out of habit, than anything. He was too focused on feeling the red-haired man’s reactions, than anything. He just wanted to remind the both of them who they were. It was easy to forget, in a situation like this.

Hwitaek giggled, moving his hips closer to Hyojong. “I can tell.” Hyojong wasn’t really sure if he was being sarcastic or not, so he decided not to respond.

He pressed the very tip of his middle finger to Hwitaek’s entrance, feeling the delicate puckered skin. He saw Hwitaek chewing on the inside of his cheek. Hyojong actually couldn’t believe this was happening. One second, he didn’t know if he was going to hit the older man, or not. Another second, Hwitaek was naked in his bed, and Hyojong had a finger pressed against him.

Hyojong swallowed hard, trying to keep his mind focused. “You ready?” he asked, pressing his finger a little harder against Hwitaek.

Hwitaek nodded, eyes unmoving from where Hyojong’s hand disappeared between his legs. “Go ahead,” he said calmly.

Even though he was obviously hard, he sounded so unaffected by everything Hyojong was doing. He was breathing at a mostly even pace, and talking calmly, and just lying back, like he did this sort of thing every day. Which, Hyojong knew he didn’t. “How the hell are you so calm?” Hyojong asked. He’d been panicking since he’d kissed Hwitaek the first time. Also since he’d kissed him the _first_ time. Actually, since he met Hwitaek, that one day on the campus. But whatever. _Nothing_ about Hwitaek made Hyojong feel calm.

“I’m not really that calm,” Hwitaek said. Hyojong wanted to argue that he sounded pretty damned calm, for almost having a finger up his ass. “I just want you to keep going.” He shrugged. “Besides, you look really good right now.”

Hyojong audibly choked. _He_ looked good. Hwitaek was too much. Hyojong wasn’t the one splayed out on the bed with tousled hair and dark eyes. If only Hwitaek could see himself, right now.

In his current—and constant—state of panic, Hyojong didn’t know what to do. So, he pressed his finger all the way inside of Hwitaek, in one, fluid potion.

A long exhale was pressed out of Hwitaek. “Oh,” he sighed, a smile on his lips. Hyojong stilled for a moment, so he could give Hwitaek time to adjust to the intrusion. He was so hot and tight around Hyojong’s finger, clenching and unclenching. Hyojong thought he was going to lose his mind. Hwitaek shifted on the bed, moving his hips closer to the younger man. “You can move.”

Hyojong nodded, without really thinking about what he was doing. “Yeah.” He watched his finger slide out of Hwitaek, slow and smooth. It felt like Hwitaek was sucking him in, as if he _wanted_ to be filled. Hyojong almost came at the thought.

Hyojong leaned back down to press his lips against Hwitaek’s. He could feel the other man’s breath on his face, and his slick lips against his tongue. He was kissing Hyojong so wet and desperate, he couldn’t help the groan that bubbled up from his throat. He was slowly pumping his finger in and out of the red-haired man.

“I like your hands,” Hwitaek said, mouth moving against Hyojong’s. His lips were slick with spit, easily shifting against the younger man’s.

“Thanks,” Hyojong murmured. He pressed his finger a little harder into Hwitaek, earning a soft groan. Hyojong bit Hwitaek’s lip, letting his tongue skim over the soft skin there. Hwitaek smelled good, and tasted good, and felt good around Hyojong’s finger. Hyojong’s head was spinning, it felt like he hadn’t gotten any oxygen since they’d started. Hwitaek’s hand ran down Hyojong’s chest, down his stomach, until it was fitting itself down the front of Hyojong’s boxer. Cool fingers wrapped around his girth, moving over him. Hyojong grunted loudly. “You too.”

Hwitaek’s hand was slow, and Hyojong was thankful for that. With all of the kissing, and Hwitaek’s hands all over his body, and Hwitaek’s tight heat, Hyojong really was not going to last long. If Hwitaek went any faster, Hyojong would be coming in no time. And if he didn’t get to fuck this annoying prep into his mattress, he was going to be really mad at himself. Fucking the class president was both his worst nightmare, and his most explicit fantasy. He really had a fucked-up way about doing things, especially when it came down to what he wanted and didn’t want, but at the moment, he couldn’t care less. Hwitaek’s mouth was skilled and wet, and his hand was dainty and just as skilled as his mouth. Regardless of how much he could potentially regret what he was currently doing, he couldn’t be bothered to stop. Hwitaek was under him, and he intended on continuing with this theme.

Hyojong pulled his finger out of Hwitaek, sitting up. Their lips separated with a wet noise, and Hwitaek smiled, looking up at Hyojong. Hyojong poured a little more lube on his fingers, taking less time to warm it up, this time. Hwitaek’s grip was tight around his cock, and he wanted to be inside of him _as soon as possible_.

He pressed his fingers between Hwitaek’s asscheeks, pressing them in. He went in, knuckle by knuckle, until both of his fingers were buried inside of the red-haired man. He crawled on top of Hwitaek, so that he was straddling one of the man’s thighs. He pulled his fingers out, and pressed back in. Hwitaek gave a contented hum. Hyojong kept that pace, trying to loosen Hwitaek up as much as possible. He scissored his fingers, a little, pressing against the older man’s inner walls.

Hwitaek craned his neck up, pouting his lips. “Kiss me, again.”

Regularly, Hyojong didn’t like being told what to do. It wasn’t the type of person he was. But right now, Hwitaek was so sexy beneath him, and he was working his hand _so_ nicely around Hyojong, the blond couldn’t resist him. He leaned down, his cock rubbing against the soft skin of Hwitaek’s thigh, and allowed his tongue to run along the inside of Hwitaek’s lower lip.

Hwitaek kissed back, rolling his tongue against the younger man’s. He was panting into Hyojong’s mouth, little gasps and groans escaping whenever Hyojong pressed his fingers deep inside of him. He was going as deep as he could possibly go, and Hwitaek was loving it. Hwitaek was loving every single thing Hyojong was doing to him, and Hyojong absolutely could not believe it.

Hwitaek was the class president. That was very clear to the both of them. He was a perfect, model student, who got straight A`s, and was nice to everyone he met. Teachers liked him, all the preps liked him, and he had a ridiculous amount of power for having a position on the school board. He was everything teachers wanted a student to be, and everything a prep was _supposed_ to be. Yet, here he was, taking Hyojong’s fingers up his ass, and loving every moment of it.

Hwitaek was fucked up, in the absolute best way possible. And Hyojong simply could not get over the fact.

Hyojong pulled his fingers almost all the way out, until only the very tips were inside of him. He pressed a third finger alongside the other two. He could feel Hwitaek spreading around his fingers, each one of them pressed against the inside of him.

A long groan vibrated against Hyojong’s lips, the other man adjusting to the new intrusion. Hwitaek removed his hand from Hyojong’s cock, letting his fingers rest against the top of the blond’s thigh. Hyojong stopped to let him take it all in, lifting his head so he could see Hwitaek’s expression. His eyebrows were knit, eyes closed gently. His cheeks were pink, lips parted ever-so-slightly. He didn’t look like he was in pain, or anything. Just trying to get used to Hyojong’s fingers.

“You good?” Hyojong asked.

“Yeah,” Hwitaek smiled. “It feels good.” He wiggled his hips, as initiative for Hyojong to keep going.

Hyojong twisted his fingers inside of Hwitaek, earning a short gasp. He pumped his fingers inside of the younger man, watching his expressions shift into different ones of pleasure. He picked up the pace, just a little bit, driven by his own arousal, and the sounds Hwitaek’s pretty mouth was giving. He wanted to be inside of him, so, so fucking badly. He was burning hot, and tight, and slick from the lube, and Hyojong wanted nothing more than to be inside of him.

Hyojong leaned his head down, and pressed his mouth to the side of Hwitaek’s neck. He scraped the flat edges of his teeth against his soft skin, his tongue following. His skin was salty, and soft, but somehow still sweet. Hwitaek was sweet. Hyojong was entirely intoxicated by his sweetness, yet he still couldn’t get enough of it.

He curled his fingers, brushing against a bundle of sensitive nerves. Hwitaek moaned a loud, “ _fuck, Hyojong_ ,” his hips bucking up against Hyojong. Hyojong smiled, shoving his fingers back into Hwitaek. “Okay,” Hwitaek said, his nails slightly digging into the skin of Hyojong’s leg. “Okay, okay, okay. Fuck me, Hyojong. I’m ready, come on.”

Hyojong didn’t hesitate to pull his fingers out of the older man, wiping the excess lube on the inside of his thigh. “Yeah,” Hyojong said, sitting up so quickly he got dizzy. He leaned over Hwitaek to grab a condom out of his dresser drawer, but a dainty hand halted his movements.

“You don’t have to use one,” Hwitaek said, his plump lips curving into a cute smile. “I trust you.”  
Hyojong swallowed hard. Hwitaek was really… making him feel some sort of way. He didn’t know what it was. He wasn’t sure he was entirely comfortable with it. It was like a good feeling. But Hyojong wasn’t sure he wanted to feel it.

“Are you sure?” Hyojong asked. He slowly drew his hand back from the dresser, to where the lube was lying on the mattress.

Hwitaek nodded. “Stop stalling, Hyojong. Just _fuck me_ already.” He rolled his eyes, but his hands were sliding up Hyojong’s thighs, to rest on his hipbones. “Please.”

Just like that, Hyojong’s boxers were off. He didn’t even remember taking them off, but they were lying on the floor, and Hwitaek’s legs were resting on the angle of Hyojong’s hips, spread wide. Hyojong slicked more lube onto his cock, pumping a hand over himself, to get it fully coated. Hwitaek’s hands moved to his biceps, where they seemingly liked to rest. Hyojong had his a hand around the base of his cock, the other stabilizing himself on the bed. He lined himself up with Hwitaek, pressing the head of his cock to his entrance.

“Ready?” Hyojong asked, looking down at Hwitaek. Hyojong wasn’t nervous. He never got nervous. He was a calm, collected person, who smoked on campus and wore leather jackets. He was cool. He was calm.

Hwitaek rolled his eyes again, a cute smile on his lips. “I’ve _been_ ready, Hyojong.”

So Hyojong pressed his hips forward. His cock was immediately enveloped in a type of squeezing heat Hyojong hadn’t felt in a _long_ time. Hwitaek was hot, and tight, and Hyojong was pretty sure he blacked out from pleasure, for more than a few seconds.

A loud moan left Hwitaek’s parted lips, his eyes shut, as soon as Hyojong bottomed out. His fingernails were digging into Hyojong’s biceps. His breathing was slow, and deep, but he was moaning so fucking _loudly_.

“Fuck,” Hwitaek said, eyebrows knitting. “Fuck, you’re big.”

And, oh god, Hyojong realized this was the first time Hwitaek had ever done this. Bottomed. Anal. Whatever. But Hyojong was _certainly_ taking some for of Hwitaek’s virginity. He really felt like he was going to panic, actually. If it hadn’t been for the searing heat surrounding his cock, he would have.

Hyojong bit the inside of his own lip so hard, he drew blood. He wanted to come. He’d been inside of Hwitaek for approximately seven seconds, and he really wanted to come, already. “Tell me when you’re ready,” he grunted. He had both arms on either side of Hwitaek’s face, now. He was fully on top of Hwitaek, and he could see every expression he gave. This was the sexiest, most terrifying thing Hyojong had ever gone through. He didn’t know how he’d managed to get to this point, with the class president, of all people. But he wasn’t hating it, so far.

“Give it a second,” Hwitaek said, voice strained. Hyojong couldn’t blame him. Both of their bodies were so still, in fear of hurting Hwitaek. “Kiss me again, will you?” He smiled when he said it.

Hyojong leaned down and pressed a warm kiss to Hwitaek’s lips. “I assume you like kissing?” he asked. He pressed another kiss to Hwitaek’s mouth, sucking on his lower lip.

Hwitaek leaned up into the touch, moving his mouth against the blond’s. “I like kissing you,” he muttered. His tongue parted the lighter haired man’s lips, tasting his tongue. Hwitaek’s lips were so slippery and swollen, just from kissing. It felt good to kiss him, like this. “You’re good at it.”

“Glad you think so,” Hyojong hummed, with a pleased smile. He loved the way Hwitaek turned into putty, whenever Hyojong so much as touched him.

Hwitaek broke the kiss, this time. His dark eyes were staring up at Hyojong, making him feel like he was drowning. They were so dark, they looked black. Especially since Hyojong’s room had a singular lamp lighting everything they did. It made his tan skin look even tanner, a different shade of sticky-sweet honey. “You can move. Go slow.”

Hyojong nodded, slowly pulling his hips back. Fucking _hell_ , Hwitaek was so tight. He could feel every bit of flesh pulling and sucking him in. Only the head of his cock remained inside of the redhead, and he had to stop to take the sight in. Hwitaek’s skin was glistening with sweat. Their faces were only inches apart, since Hyojong was still holding himself above Hwitaek, but he could see how shiny his skin was. It made him look like he was glowing, like he had looked when he’d first entered Hyojong’s apartment, all shiny and new. He was _pretty_.

Hyojong slowly, slowly rolled his hips into Hwitaek. With an embarrassingly loud moan. Hwitaek just felt so fucking _good_ , he couldn’t even stand it. It wasn’t fair to be this hot, and loud, and soft, and sexy. Hyojong could not even fucking stand it. But he really, really fucking liked it, right about now.

Hwitaek moaned again, his blunt nails scraping a little down Hyojong’s arms. He didn’t care. Right now, Hwitaek could do whatever the hell he wanted to do. Hyojong was too swept up in the sensations to care.

“Tell me if I need to stop,” Hyojong said quietly, pulling his hips back.

Hwitaek nodded, hazy eyes looking up at the blond. “I will,” he assured. His back arched, a little, when Hyojong pressed back inside. Hyojong pulled out slowly, movements eased by the lube, and pressed back in, making sure to grind his hips when he bottomed out. He was hitting deep inside of Hwitaek, every inch of him covered by the older man.

He repeated this motion a few times. Pulling out, pushing back in. Hwitaek was giving small, cute whimpers whenever Hyojong ground his hips down. He repeated it a few more times. He felt like he was barely even moving. He was getting just enough friction to not lose his mind completely, but his cock was throbbing with want.

Hwitaek’s fingers had effectively scraped their way down Hyojong’s biceps. Every gentle thrust Hyojong gave, another centimeter Hwitaek’s grip went. His back was arched away from the mattress, taking Hyojong’s cock. He was taking it so, so well, for this being his first time. Hyojong could believe how calm Hwitaek was, especially to this unfamiliar feeling. Fingers were fine, sure, but they were nothing like having an actual cock inside of you. And Hwitaek was taking it in, like he took all of Hyojong in, always.

Hyojong pulled back as slowly as he’d been going, watching Hwitaek’s face. The red-haired man was just watching the ceiling, or Hyojong’s chest, depending on where his eyes happened to flicker to. Hyojong thrust in, harder than he had been before, giving a light snap of his hips against the other’s ass.

He was panting, and they’d hardly even started. It was hard to think when he was fucking Hwitaek like this, much less talk. “You look good,” he said softly. Hwitaek was taking deep breaths, his chest rising and falling with the motion. The sheen of sweat made every curve and contour of his body stand out even more than they already did. The tendons in his neck were shifting with every move he made, lean arm muscles moving as he touched Hyojong. His lips were bright red, and it made Hyojong realize how much of a gentle kisser he wasn’t.

Hwitaek’s hands crawled back up Hyojong’s biceps, gripping onto sweat-slick skin. “You feel good,” he said, blinking up at the man.

Hyojong wanted to tell him that there was no way Hyojong’s cock felt as good as Hwitaek’s ass did, but he currently couldn’t remember how to speak.

He just picked up the pace, pulling back a little faster, sliding in a little harder. It felt so good to be able to go a little faster. Hwitaek was finally adjusting to Hyojong’s size, and it was starting to get really fucking good. Hwitaek was slick, on the inside, and willing to take whatever Hyojong wanted to give him. It made Hyojong dizzy.

Hyojong slid his hands up to Hwitaek’s thighs, adjusting them over his hips. He didn’t want Hwitaek’s legs to fall off of him, and he knew this was going to be the best and easiest angle for the both of them. He gave a quick, shallow thrust of his hips, grunting at the feeling.

Hwitaek moaned—actually fucking _moaned_ , and it was the hottest sound Hyojong had ever had the pleasure of hearing. It was high-pitched, and breathy, and whiny, and it resonated from Hwitaek’s throat and filled the entire room. Hwitaek was always loud, and Hyojong usually hated it. He talked loud, and laughed loud, but most importantly, he _moaned loud_.

Hands deftly pawed at Hyojong’s arms, squirming on the bed. “Do that again,” Hwitaek panted, shifting his ass closer to Hyojong’s hips. “Go fast again.”

Hyojong did. Without hesitating. He was giving, quick, sharp thrusts, pulling a moan out of Hwitaek’s mouth every time he went forward. Hwitaek was stretched over his cock, every move inward pressing against his tight inner walls. Hyojong’s hands were unmoving on Hwitaek’s legs, fingertips gripping into the flesh. He didn’t want Hwitaek to slip, or to hurt Hwitaek, or to lose control. It all felt too good.

He snapped his hips forward again and again, the head of his cock teasing at Hwitaek’s prostate. Hwitaek was just getting louder and louder, more sweat dotting his skin, precome gathering at the tip of his cock. Hyojong could see it beaded on the sensitive skin, smearing across the older man’s stomach and catching the dim lighting in the room. He braced himself on the bed with one arm, looking down at where their legs were tangled together. He wrapped his own, calloused fingers around Hwitaek’s length, earning a strangled moan. His hands were no where near as nice as Hwitaek’s hands were, but no matter who you were, getting fucked and jerked off was one of the best feelings a person could ever experience. He stroked over him in time with his own thrusts, twisting his hand over the head to spread the precome over his shaft. His hand rubbed over sensitive skin, from the very tip, all the way down to the base, making sure to give Hwitaek the best experience possible. He wanted to make Hwitaek feel good. He wanted to yell at himself for wanting it so badly, but he did. He wanted it.

Hwitaek’s lips parted, and he was watching Hyojong’s face with the utmost concentration. “Fuck,” he panted, back arching off of the bed. His hips bucked, cock slipping in Hyojong’s hand. “That feel’s so good, Hyojong.” His voice was breathy, barely even there, but so, so good.

“Yeah.” Kissing Hwitaek had been a mistake. But Hyojong had never been one to do what was good for him. And if it was a mistake, then it was the best mistake Hyojong had ever fucking made. “Good,” he said.

Hyojong’s arm was shaking from holding himself up for so long, so he let himself down, closer to Hwitaek. He leaned down on one elbow, his forearm steadying himself. He was still tugging over Hwitaek’s cock, fast and hard, trying to get the red-haired man off before he came. Their faces were so close together, Hyojong could see the older man’s pores in his cheeks, and the lines in his pink lips. Their skin was sticking together, wherever they touched, and Hyojong couldn’t help but to think that Hwitaek really was honey.

“Honey,” Hyojong murmured, noting the way Hwitaek’s skin and texture mimicked the substance. He really hadn’t meant to say it out loud, though, so he quickly covered up by burying his face in the side of Hwitaek’s neck. “You’re so fucking pretty.” Which, he realized, wasn’t exactly the best way to embarrass himself less.

Hwitaek moaned a little louder, which might have been a response. The sound of skin slapping against skin was quiet, but it was there. Hyojong had his mouth against the side of Hwitaek’s neck, nipping at soft skin. He was breathing heavily against Hwitaek’s dampened skin, and he could feel the vibrations against his lips whenever Hwitaek gave a particularly loud moan. Hyojong didn’t think he’d ever felt this good, in his entire life. Fucking Hwitaek was more than he could have ever imagined.

He was fucking Hwitaek now. Really fucking him. Hard, and fast, and loud, because he really couldn’t control the noises his hips made when they slammed against Hwitaek’s ass, or the groans that left his mouth. Hwitaek’s body was rocking back and forth on the bed with every one of Hyojong’s thrusts. Hyojong could feel his stomach and hip muscles flexing with each roll of his hips, trying to fuck Hwitaek to make the both of them feel as good as possible.

Hwitaek slid his hands from Hyojong’s biceps, to the taut muscles of his back. He was holding onto Hyojong like he was afraid one of them would float away, if he stopped. Manicured fingernails were scraping their way down Hyojong’s back, in time with each of his thrusts. Maybe it should have hurt—Hyojong didn’t know. It felt good, hot lines being ran down the length of his back. It set his skin on fire, in a way that left tingling tracks, and he loved it.

There was a tight coil of heat burning in the pit of Hyojong’s stomach. It had been tightening ever since he’d met Hwitaek. It had gotten worse every time Hwitaek looked him up and down, or when he complimented him, or when he _said_ things that made Hyojong question what type of person Hwitaek was. Every time Hwitaek told Hyojong to be mean to him, or sat in his lap, it only got hotter and tighter. Now, with Hwitaek under him like this, it felt like it was burning it’s way through all of Hyojong’s internal organs, and pressing that heat at the base of Hyojong’s spine. Like this, coiled as tight as he was, Hyojong knew he wasn’t going to be able to last for much longer. He felt like he was going to burst. He’d felt like he was going to burst every fucking time he was around Hwitaek.

“I’m close,” Hwitaek said, finishing his words with a choked-out moan. He rolled his hips, grinding on Hyojong’s cock, his own cock fucking into Hyojong’s hand. Hyojong leaned back up to look at Hwitaek’s face, met with an expression full of pleasure. Hwitaek’s eyes were so dark they looked black, and endless, rimmed with long lashes. His cheeks were a deadly shade of hot pink, his lips a raw, bright red. Every time he moaned, his lips parted, brows furrowing.

“Uh-huh,” Hyojong exhaled, ever-so-intelligently. He tugged over Hwitaek’s cock faster, squeezing a little tighter. He pressed the pads of his fingers into prominent veins, and under the ridge of the head. Hyojong’s hips were quickly working against Hwitaek, pumping his cock inside of him. He was hitting deep, and fast, and he was too far gone to be as gentle as he maybe should have been. But Hwitaek was moaning loudly, and squirming on the bed, and dragging his hands over Hyojong’s skin. Hyojong was practically pressing the older man into the mattress, the other thing between the two of them Hyojong’s hand.

Hwitaek was warm, as always, every point of contact making Hyojong feel like he was getting a burn. They were sweaty, and hard, and Hyojong was so, so close it hurt, but he had to get Hwitaek off first.

The lighter haired man leaned down to capture the Hwitaek’s lips in a sloppy, wet kiss. Neither of them cared too much about kissing, or keeping it clean, Hyojong just wanted as much sensation as possible, and the red-haired man’s mouth certainly did the job. He was desperate for any contact he could get. Legs were wrapped around Hyojong’s waist, hands on his back. Their chests were almost flush, save for the space Hyojong was using to stroke over Hwitaek’s cock, and by their shoulders, so Hyojong could kiss him hotly. He had one hand around the other man’s cock, and decided to let his free hand glide through Hwitaek’s soft, red hair, tugging a little when Hwitaek bit his lower lip. This only resulted in a louder moan, which made Hyojong pound him harder, trying to get them off as soon as he could, before they both lost their fucking minds.

“Fuck,” Hyojong groaned, “fuck, Hui, _fuck_.” He’d never felt this good in his life. He was sure of it. Everything about Hwitaek was absolutely fucking magnificent. He felt so good. Hwitaek was soft and hard and gentle and rough and loud but subtle and all these insane fucking contradictory traits that Hyojong could comprehend, because all he knew right now was Hwitaek’s ass, and hands, and lips, and skin, and all he knew for sure was that Hwitaek was here and he was good. And he was _Hwitaek_.

Hwitaek’s back arched high off of the bed, his head thrown back as spurts of come coated Hyojong’s fingers. The moan he gave sounded like it was ripped from his throat, high-pitched, and louder than ever.

Hyojong pushed into him, once, twice, a third time, and while hardly registering what he was doing, he pulled out of Hwitaek and came all over the inside of his thigh. His whole body was shaking with the orgasm, body drenched in sweat. He just kept coming, and coming, and it felt like his soul was actually leaving his fucking body. And he felt so good.

The room was full of their heavy breathing, and the heat radiating off of their bodies. Hyojong was doing everything in his power to not fall on Hwitaek and crush him to death, but his body really didn’t want to support him, any longer. He half fell on top of Hwitaek, rolling to the side so he could lie on his back and avoid getting come on his sheets. He just changed them, he didn’t want to have to go through the process again.

They caught their breaths, lying in silence on Hyojong’s bed. The come was starting to get tacky on Hyojong’s skin, but his bones felt like they were made of gelatin, and he wasn’t sure it’d be safe to walk, just yet. Now that he wasn’t moving, Hyojong could feel that the air was cool against his sweaty skin.

Hwitaek rolled onto his side, setting a leg on top of Hyojong’s body. He was grinning up at Hyojong, eyes sparkling. He took a deep breath, and Hyojong could tell that he was either going to say something really profound, or something obnoxiously dumb. “Hyojongie is so good,” he chirped, using his favourite high-pitched cutesy voice. Obnoxiously dumb. Hyojong wasn’t even surprised.

Hyojong did laugh, though, the throaty sound leaving his mouth in a burst. “You are absolutely ridiculous,” he said, giving a light shove to the older man’s shoulder.

“I stopped for half an hour, like you told me to,” he said pointedly, shimmying closer to Hyojong. “Anyway, you were really good, and I hope we can do that again.”

Hyojong nodded, petting Hwitaek on the head. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” he said. Hwitaek was entirely too good in bed. Hyojong would be absolutely insane to _not_ want to sleep with him, again. “You like having your hair pulled,” he noted, remembering the way the red-haired man reacted when he’d done so.

Hwitaek snorted. “You called me Hui.”

Hyojong narrowed his eyes. “Alright,” he said, giving a short laugh. ‘ _Friends call me Hui_ ,’ was repeating in his head, so he decided to give up. “I’ll shut up, now.” He sat up, reaching over to grab his shirt off of the floor. He wiped the drying come off of his hand, reaching over Hwitaek to wipe it off of his thigh. “Gross. We can wash it off when we get up, tomorrow.”

Hwitaek was quiet, for a minute, and Hyojong was afraid he’d done something wrong. Hwitaek’s eyes were wider than usual, lips parted in surprise. “You want me to stay the night?” he asked.

“Duh,” Hyojong said, tossing his shirt in the corner of his room. “I’m not just going to dick you down and make you leave. I’m not that mean.” He was kind of an asshole, but it was late as fuck, and Hwitaek was warm to sleep with, anyway.

While Hyojong was putting some sweatpants on, Hwitaek was watching him with careful eyes. “I think the food delivery guy knew I was hard,” he said, smiling up at Hyojong. “I think he knew what we were up to.”

Hyojong threw a pair of sweats at Hwitaek, for him to wear. “Oh, yeah, we got food,” he remembered. Thank god. He was fucking hungry. Sex was a sport, really. “Maybe he just thought you were _really_ excited for Chinese food.”

Hwitaek laughed loudly, his head falling against Hyojong’s knee. “Stop,” he laughed. “That’s awful. I felt so bad for him, but there wasn’t anything I could do.”

“Well, look on the bright side. You’ll probably never see that guy, again. And if you do, he’ll just think of you as the guy who was getting laid and eating Chinese food. I say you look pretty alright, in his eyes.”

“Am I allowed to ask you to kiss me?” Hwitaek asked, a hand lazily resting on Hyojong’s knee.

Hyojong sighed. “Sure,” he said. “But only when we’re alone. That was just sex, so don’t get your hopes up, too much. We aren’t Yuto and Kino.” In other words, they weren’t dating. It was just sex between two people very different who argued a lot. Regardless, Hyojong leaned in and pressed his lips against Hwitaek’s. The other man’s lips were a little swollen, from the night’s activities. It was more gentle, this time. Last time, it had been fueled by anger, and lust, and the need to get off as soon as they could. Now, they were both tired, and warm, and half naked. Hyojong just wanted to take his time kissing Hwitaek, and Hwitaek seemed to want the same. He was leaning into the kiss, lips moving slowly against the blond’s.

“That’s okay,” Hwitaek said quietly, chasing after Hyojong’s lips, even when he pulled back.

“Are you hungry?” Hyojong asked, face close to Hwitaek’s.

“Yes,” Hwitaek said. “Are you going to get the Chinese food?”

Hyojong got off of the bed, Hwitaek’s eyes following him as he stretched his arms upward. God, Hwitaek really was good-looking, wasn’t he? He wasn’t doing much more than just watching Hyojong, but he looked so unreal. He was wearing a pair of Hyojong’s sweatpants, that were a bit too loose on him, and his hair was a fucking mess. But he looked like he was glowing, as always, but this time, it was ten times brighter.

Hyojong wanted to punch himself in the face for even noticing.

“Hell yeah, I am.”

#

Hwitaek had fallen asleep quickly. After they’d eaten their now-cold Chinese food, Hwitaek had wrapped his tiny body around Hyojong, and passed the fuck out. Hyojong had an arm around the older man, resting on the curve of his spine. Both of Hwitaek’s arms and legs were around Hyojong, his loose grip pulling them as close as he could manage.

He looked really cute, when he slept. Hyojong had noticed that, earlier. He looked peaceful, instead of being hyper and on edge, like he was when he was awake. He was quiet, and his features looked gentle. His eyes were closed, long eyelashes resting against the tops of his cheek, lips turned down in a small pout. He was just peaceful, and content. Hyojong thought he looked rather nice, like this.

And then Hyojong realized that he’d just fucked the class president. Part of him was really proud. He’d wanted to corrupt Hwitaek—and he’d finally done it. He’d corrupted him past a point of return, and it felt good, for his ego. Another, much more rational part of him, felt less than happy about the fact. He wasn’t supposed to have _sex_ with the class president. No matter how much he liked it. The class president was on a different side of life than Hyojong was. The class president was good, and pure, and he’d just taken Hyojong’s cock, and it had been so good. Hwitaek had been fucked for the very first time, and it had been by Hyojong. He wasn’t sure why, but that made him feel somehow responsible for Hwitaek. He fucked him, so now he had to be careful not to do anything wrong towards Hwitaek.

Which was, admittedly, an _absolutely fucking ridiculous way of thinking_. Hyojong wasn’t responsible for the class president. He wasn’t responsible for Hwitaek. He and Hwitaek didn’t even fucking _like_ each other. They weren’t close. But, Hyojong supposed, they technically _were_ close, if they’d done this much with each other.

He shouldn’t have done this. He shouldn’t have had sex with Hwitaek. That had been clear.

But he _wanted_ to have sex with Hwitaek. Again, and again, and again, until one of them got sick of it, which he didn’t predict happening in the near future. He liked sleeping with Hwitaek, from start to finish. He liked sitting in his bed, watching shitty cartoons, and eating cold Chinese food. He liked Hwitaek’s obnoxious cutesy voice, and his odd sense of humour, and his ridiculously loud laugh. He found that he liked a lot about Hwitaek, and it made him want to throw up.

Hyojong slowly, carefully, got out of the bed, preying Hwitaek’s limbs off of him without waking him up. Hwitaek was deep asleep, there was no way he’d be waking up any time soon. Hyojong’s hands were shaking when he grabbed his phone off of the dresser. He wasn’t sure if it was from not smoking, or from being anxious. It felt like a good, strong mixture of both. He ventured into his living room, grabbing a box of cigarettes off of his coffee table. His living room was a mess, but he’d deal with it later. Right now, he was tired, and stressed, and kind of freaking out about why the hell he couldn’t control himself a little better.

Hwitaek was the type of person Hyojong had always, always avoided. No matter the cost. Hwitaek was loud, and annoying, and preppy, and he practically wore a uniform when he went to classes. He got good grades, and had a lot of friends, and had motivation, to do well in school. He was perfect, when it came down to it. He was everything Hyojong wasn’t.

Yet, here Hyojong was. Having just slept with the guy. Having _enjoyed their time together_. Not just the sex, either. If he had enjoyed just the sex, that would have been fine, since he was human, and humans generally enjoyed sex. But it had been far, far more than the sex. Hyojong felt like he didn’t know who the hell he was, and it was freaking him out. He’d always been so sure of what he liked and didn’t like. He’d always been so sure of the type of person he was. He wore leather jackets, and smoked, and drank, and hated people who wanted to conform to everyone’s idealistic expectations of man. He was sure of who he was. He couldn’t just meet a peppy class president and have a wild change of mind. That wasn’t the way things worked. And somehow, Hyojong feared, it was.

Hyojong was in the parking lot of his apartment, shakily holding his lighter. He was just trying to light a fucking cigarette, but he was cold, and tired, and freaking out.

Hwitaek was in his bed, right now. That should have bothered Hyojong. What bothered him the most, was that he _wasn’t_ bothered by that. He just thought Hwitaek sleeping in his bed was _cute_. That was absurd. Hyojong had felt his sanity slipping away from him, lately, but this was really it. This was when he went on the deep end and have feelings for—

No. Nope. Hyojong was not going to go that far. He would push that away and deal with it another day, when he was feeling like really hating himself.

Hwitaek was, undoubtedly, too good for him. Not in the sense that Hwitaek was a better _person_ , even though that was also true, but Hwitaek was a model student, and a good example, and a good, perfect person. Hyojong shouldn’t have even have been _around_ him.

Hyojong finally, finally inhaled some fucking smoke, and tried to clear his head. The outside air was clear, and cool, and calm. Reflecting the opposite of how Hyojong was feeling. He wondered what he’d done to become such a fucking train wreck. A voice at the back of his head told him that he’d become affiliated with Hwitaek. He decided to ignore that part of his brain.

Hyojong smoked like his life depended on it, because right now, it really felt like it did. His heart was beating fast, and he was jumpy, and he wanted nothing more than to take everything he’d done back, and to never do it again.

A much more real part of Hyojong wanted to wake up and do _more_ with Hwitaek, until they were both sweaty and exhausted, all over again.

Hyojong hated himself.

He got his phone out, and clicked on Wooseok’s stupid profile picture. He listened to the phone ring, for what felt like hours, before a click sounded on the other line.

“Hyojong, do you know how late it is?” Wooseok asked, his voice scratchy and deep. Hyojong had clearly just woken him up, and he didn’t sound to happy about it.

Hyojong looked at the clock on his phone. It was almost five in the morning. “Yes, but listen.”

A loud sigh resonated, and Hyojong could hear Wooseok sit up in bed. “What the fuck did you do, this time?”

“I may have just made a huge mistake.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment telling me how you feel about this chapter! I know a lot of you wanted smut, in some form or another, and I'd love to read how you feel about the final result! It's not the best smut I've ever written, but at least it's here, right? :') Any comments are appreciated ^^
> 
> Instagram: hypjpng


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, this chapter is here on time! This is rather short, in comparison to the last couple chapters, but I really just wanted to fit Hwitaek's perspective in here. I think it's a fun chapter, and I hope you all do, as well!

As it turned out, Hwitaek was not going to make it to that soccer game Hongseok had wanted him to.

That was his first thought when he woke up. He was initially planning on going, too. It was something fun the student body council liked to do to hang out and have fun. He rarely ever went, anyway, but he had a responsibility as class president, and he had fully intended to uphold it. That was, until Hyojong had kissed him, rough and hard, and Hwitaek’s knees had gone weak.

Finally. Really. All Hwitaek had wanted, since the second he laid eyes on Hyojong, was for Hyojong to kiss him like he had a fire burning behind his lips, and Hwitaek was the only way to put it out. And, finally, Hyojong had kissed him out of anger, and it had been the hottest thing Hwitaek had ever experienced. And the rest… well, the rest had blown Hwitaek’s mind.

Sex. With Hyojong. Just _thinking_ about it made Hwitaek laugh out loud. It had been good, too. More than good. Hyojong was incredible, in every sense of the word.

“You’re awake, a voice said, turning Hwitaek’s head. Hyojong was standing in the door way, looking like some sort of fairytale prince. His hair was still messy from sleep—and likely from Hwitaek’s hands—and it was sticking up in every which way, looking as fluffy and soft as cotton candy. He was radiant, like he was the sun, or a star, or something of the sort, because it looked like he was literally emitting light from inside. He also was wearing a shirt, which was pleasant. And Hwitaek was sure he’d never seen anyone more attractive. And he got to _have sex_ with this guy. Amazing.

Hwitaek’s face spread into a smile. “I’m awake,” he said. His voice always got a bit scratchy in the mornings, so he had to clear his throat. “I’m surprised you’re awake.” He wouldn’t have guessed that Hyojong was the type of person to wake up earlier than Hwitaek did. Then again, Hwitaek had stayed up far later than he was used to, last night. Hyojong was probably used to staying up late. Hwitaek rolled to the side, to get a better look at Hyojong. And, oh, it felt like Hwitaek’s body had been run over by a bulldozer. Hyojong certainly did a number on him. Hwitaek smiled to himself.

Hyojong looked down at Hwitaek like he was a confusing, alluring mythical creature. “Couldn’t sleep,” he said simply. He moved inside of the room, sitting on the edge of his own bed. “Wooseok wanted to talk on the phone, and I had to smoke.”

“Oh, you didn’t smoke last night,” Hwitaek remembered. All they’d done last night, after the fact, was eat Chinese food and watch cartoons. He supposed that Hyojong had forgotten, in the midst of all of that.

Hyojong shook his head. Hwitaek thought Hyojong’s cheeks were really cute. “No, I went down after you fell asleep.” Spending time with Hyojong had been the most fun Hwitaek had ever had. Hyojong was really funny, and his sense of humour matched well with Hwitaek’s. He had been really nice, all of last night, in a gentle way. That was, when Hwitaek wasn’t specifically telling him to be otherwise. Plus, they’d cuddled, just a tiny bit. And Hwitaek found that he really enjoyed that.

Hwitaek nodded in understanding. “I’m missing the soccer game Hongseok wanted me to go to.” He didn’t know what time it was, but he knew it wasn’t eight in the morning. Really, who planned a soccer game that early? Even if it were early in the morning, they had practically stayed up all night, and Hwitaek was… sore. To say the least. Everywhere. He didn’t even need the soccer to be active. He found his own ways.

Something flashed through Hyojong’s black eyes. Pride, maybe. Hwitaek knew Hyojong had some sort of testosterone-infused grudge against Hongseok, and he was sure that had something to do with it. Whatever it was, it made Hyojong look happy. It was a good look on him. “That’s okay, he said, lips turning up in a thin smile.

Even though Hwitaek was buried under a pile of blankets, Hyojong’s room was still quite cold. With an exception of the warm body next to the older man. “Lay with me,” Hwitaek said, tugging on Hyojong’s arm to emphasize his point.

Hyojong rolled his eyes, but he was smiling, anyway. “Do I have to?” he asked.

Hwitaek shuffled closer to him, a wide smile on his face. “ _Yes_.”

The blond huffed, but he was already reclining, laying close to the red-haired man. His skin was warm, and soft, and even though he was built up of hard, defined muscle, he still managed to be soft and comfortable. And he was shirtless. It really made Hwitaek want to get as close to him as possible.

Hwitaek wrapped an arm and leg around Hyojong’s body, pulling them close together. “Now it is,” Hwitaek said, in the cutesy voice he knew bothered Hyojong. What could he say? He was a cute guy. Actually, he mostly did them because Hyojong’s reactions were really entertaining.

Hyojong looked down at Hwitaek, rolling his eyes again. His pink lips were curved up in a slight smile. “You are ridiculous,” he chuckled.

Hwitaek’s cheeks was pressed against Hyojong’s bare shoulder, a wide smile on his face. “So,” he sighed. “Last night was nice.” He hoped Hyojong thought so, too.

Hyojong raised his eyebrows. The arm tucked under Hwitaek’s body let a hand rest on the center of Hwitaek’s spine. It made his stomach do flips. “The party, the dick, or the Chinese food?” he asked.

Hwitaek laughed. Hyojong thought of the funniest things, sometimes. “Well,” he said, “all of it, truthfully. You _know_ what I meant, though. I liked having sex with you.”

It sounded like Hyojong was choking on air, the way he always did when Hwitaek complimented him. It made complimenting Hyojong one of Hwitaek’s favourite things to do. “Oh,” Hyojong wheezed out. He got flustered so easily. “I’m glad you liked it.”

Hwitaek snorted. “Of course I liked it. You’re _really_ hot, Hyojong.” Was he imagining things, or were Hyojong’s ears pink? “And you’re good in bed.” Really good. _Way_ better than Hwitaek had expected, and he tended to have high expectations.

“So, uh, for your,” Hyojong cleared his throat loudly, “first time, um.” He cleared his throat again, his eyes diverting from Hwitaek’s face. “ _Bottoming_.” Hwitaek wiggled a little closer to Hyojong, sliding his hand down his chest. Sometimes, you got the urge to touch a really attractive man’s muscles. Sometimes, Hwitaek gave in to his urges. “It was alright?”

Hwitaek scoffed, sitting up. “Really, Hyojong? It was way better than alright. It was so good. I liked all of it.”

“Oh,” Hyojong said.

“Was that, like, a one-time thing, or what?” Hwitaek asked. “I’m fine with whatever, but just let me know so I know where to set my expectations. If you don’t want to do it, again, that’s alright. If you want it to be, like, a continuous thing, and sleep with me all the time, or do _whatever_ , that’s also fine.” Truthfully, Hwitaek preferred the latter. He wanted to sleep with Hyojong again. All the time. Multiple times a day, maybe. As much as he could.

“Uh,” Hyojong said, avoiding looking at Hwitaek’s face. At the moment, he was looking at where Hwitaek’s leg wrapped around his own body. “I don’t know.”

Hwitaek restrained from rolling his eyes. He lifted his head off of Hyojong’s shoulder to look down at his face. He really was too good-looking for his own good. It was almost offensive. “How do you not know?”

“Well, what do you want?” Hyojong asked.

Hwitaek failed at restraining himself from rolling his eyes. “ _Obviously_ I want to do it more. A lot.” Sex with Hyojong was something he wasn’t sure he’d ever get to experience, but he was very glad that he had.

“Like,” Hyojong wrinkled his straight nose, “friends with benefits?”

Hwitaek felt himself grin widely, sitting up more. “So, you admit we’re friends?” he asked. He _knew_ they were friends. It wasn’t hard to see. Everyone knew they were friends. Hyojong pursed his lips. “Fine,” Hwitaek said, but he couldn’t stop grinning. Hyojong tended to have that effect on him. “We can be _friends_ with benefits, if you want.”

Hyojong’s lips pouted out as he considered this. Hwitaek really wanted to kiss him. “That’s fine,” Hyojong said slowly.

Hwitaek put his head back on Hyojong’s shoulder, squishing his cheek against the younger man’s warm skin. “Good. Now you can fuck me all the time.”

The blond choked, and rather loudly, at that. “Okay,” he wheezed out.

Hwitaek laughed. He loved getting those reactions out of Hyojong. He let his fingers skim over the tattoo on the side of Hyojong’s ribs. “I’m going to have to leave at some point soon. I need to shower, and I have a lot of work to do.”

Hyojong sat up, and his face was close to Hwitaek’s. “That’s fine. But you don’t have to leave to shower, you know.”

A slow smile spread over Hwitaek’s face. “Do you want to shower, right now?” he asked, voice breathy. He felt a jolt of excitement course up his spine.

Hyojong was already off the bed, looking down at the older man. “Let’s go.”

#

Long story short, Hwitaek was on his knees.

Most of the water was hitting Hyojong’s broad back, but Hwitaek still had water running down his face, and his body. His hair was wet, but it was out of his face, thanks to the tight fist Hyojong had in it. He was pulling with Hwitaek’s movements, but the older man didn’t mind. It felt good.

He was looking up at Hyojong, trying to blink as much water out of his eyes as he could. Hyojong looked far better than Hwitaek really thought someone in the shower _should_ look, but he wasn’t complaining. Hyojong’s skin was glistening under the water, running over the curves and bumps of his muscles. His hair was wet, strands of it hanging over his face, and sticking to his cheeks, but most of it was pushed behind his ears, which Hwitaek thought looked really, really nice. It showed off his high cheekbones, and sharp jawline, and overall just showed off how good-looking Hyojong was, even when he wasn’t trying at all.  
Hwitaek’s mouth was around Hyojong, sliding over him. Everything he’d done last night had seemed to work, so he figured it’d work again. So far, it was. Hyojong was breathing heavily, and every so often, he grunted or breathed out a “ _fuck_.”

Hwitaek pulled off, his hand still pumping over Hyojong’s slick length. He looked up at Hyojong, his eyes meeting dark, narrow ones. There was something he’d always been curious about trying, and since he was here, on his knees, he figured it was as good of a time as any. “Can I swallow?” he asked, blinking his eyes up at the blond. He gave a smile, and tried not to look nervous, because he _really_ didn’t want Hyojong to say no.

“W-what?” Hyojong choked out. “You don’t want to do that, it’s gross.”

Hwitaek pouted his lips out, and slid the tip of Hyojong’s cock against them. “Yes, I do,” he argued. “If you don’t want me to, just say so. But I want to do it, so don’t try to make this about me.” Hyojong tended to do that. Last night, Hyojong kept _assuring_ that Hwitaek didn’t want to blow him, or have sex with him, or anything of the sort. And then they had done all of it, and Hwitaek was still just as sure that he did.

Hyojong was stumbling over his words, fingers still tight in Hwitaek’s hair. “ _I_ don’t mind, but you’ve never done that before, and most people don’t _enjoy_ doing that.”

Hwitaek couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “I think I’ll be fine.” Before Hyojong could protest, Hwitaek was moving his lips closer to his length. “It turns me on, and I want to do it.” He stretched his lips around the head of Hyojong’s cock, suckling at the tip. His tongue ran over the slit. His eyes were still locked on Hyojong’s face, watching his reactions, and hoping for a response.

The younger man sighed, running a hand through Hwitaek’s hair. “Fine.” Hwitaek hummed happily, rewarded by Hyojong grunting, his eyes closing. “But don’t bitch at me when you get grossed out.”

Hwitaek pulled back, narrowing his eyes. “I think you underestimate me, Hyojong. Really, if I said I want to do it, shouldn’t you sort of assume that I actually want to?”

“Are you really going to argue with me, right now?” Hyojong asked.

Hwitaek was trying not to smile. Arguing with Hyojong could be fun, at times. Hyojong was hot when he got worked up. Even if he wasn’t hot, arguing came so _naturally_ to Hwitaek, he couldn’t help it. Hyojong said a lot of things that Hwitaek disagreed with, and Hwitaek was never one to keep things inside. Some of Hyojong’s ideas about Hwitaek, and the way things worked were absolutely _absurd_ , so Hwitaek had no choice but to argue about it. Hyojong didn’t seem to understand the type of person that Hwitaek was.

Precome mixed in with Hwitaek’s saliva, every time he used his tongue to lick around the head. The taste wasn’t great, but he didn’t mind it too much. It didn’t bother him enough to make him stop. He kept bobbing his head, letting Hyojong’s cock slide over his tongue, and against the insides of his cheeks. Hwitaek had one hand on Hyojong’s hip, keeping him still and holding him in place simultaneously. Hyojong’s skin was unbelievably soft, and smooth, and Hwitaek liked touching it. The tattoo that was on his hip looked especially nice, right now, the dark ink against his fair skin.

Hwitaek liked doing this, so far. For having only done it twice, that is. He thought it was fun, and the idea of getting Hyojong off really turned him on. Hyojong was the most attractive person Hwitaek had ever had the pleasure of looking at, and the fact that he got to do this for Hyojong, a _second_ time, really excited him. He didn’t know if this was going to be an ongoing thing with Hyojong, or if it was just a really good twenty-four hours. He _hoped_ they would do this again, so he could hear Hyojong’s heavy breathing, and feel his hand wrap tight in his hair, and get Hyojong off again. At the moment, though, Hwitaek really didn’t care. Because Hyojong was getting closer and closer, and he wanted to finish the job well.

“Fuck,” Hyojong groaned, when Hwitaek twisted his hand around the base of Hyojong’s cock. Hyojong’s hips bucked, just a little, his cock sliding far back in Hwitaek’s mouth. Hwitaek gagged a little, the feeling of Hyojong’s cock in his mouth going straight down to his own. There was already an apology on Hyojong’s mouth, but Hwitaek was pretty sure he moaned. There were a lot of things Hwitaek wasn’t great at holding back, and how Hyojong made him feel was one of them. He liked when Hyojong pulled his hair, or let his cock slip to the back of Hwitaek’s throat, or bit his lips and his neck. He liked whenever Hyojong did anything that was rough, and fast, and lacked the grace to be gentle. He liked that feeling a lot. He didn’t know what type of person that made him, but he didn’t really care.

The red-haired man pulled off, just for a moment, so he could catch his breath. He’d been so focused on making Hyojong feel good, he had forgotten to breathe. “Are you close?” he asked, trailing his tongue along the shaft.

Hyojong didn’t say anything, just nodded. His eyes looked darker than usual, and his eyelashes were wet from standing in the shower for so long. He looked completely bewildered, and Hwitaek couldn’t help but feel proud, at that.

Hwitaek leaned back in, opening his mouth, and letting Hyojong’s cock slide past his lips. He started bobbing his head, again, slow at first. He ran his tongue along the underside, following prominent veins, and flicking under the ridge of the head. He could taste the blond’s precome, salty and bitter on his tongue. His hand was moving in time with his mouth, stroking whatever sensitive skin he couldn’t manage to fit in his mouth. He pulled back with a hard suck, making his mouth as tight as he could.

He picked up the pace, moving his mouth over Hyojong faster, taking him deeper. He gagged whenever he got more than halfway down, but he didn’t care enough to stop. He kept Hyojong as far as he could, his quiet gags mixing in with the wet noises his mouth was making against Hyojong. There was something really fulfilling about feeling Hyojong’s cock on the back of his tongue, and he didn’t want to let his gag reflex take all the fun away from that.

Hands were on the back of Hwitaek’s head, half pressing him forward, half just fitting there, allowing Hyojong to have some sort of control. Hwitaek swirled his tongue around the head of Hyojong’s cock, and sucked at it, earning more precome. Hyojong gave a breathy groan, his hips rocking forward into Hwitaek’s mouth. Another whine slipped out of Hwitaek’s mouth, at the feeling. He was sucking Hyojong down, tongue moving to taste him, his hand moving over him at the same speed. His lips and palm were able to slide over Hyojong easily, coated with a mix of saliva and precome. Hyojong’s cock was smooth and heavy on the older man’s tongue, filling his mouth pleasantly.

Hwitaek was pressing the tip of his tongue wherever he could manage, the pad of it easily licking precome off of where it gathered at Hyojong’s head. Hyojong moaned, the sound rough and low, and enough to make Hwitaek’s own cock twitch. He hollowed his cheeks and sucked, even as he bobbed his head quickly, rewarded by Hyojong pulling his hair so hard, his thick cock was further down Hwitaek’s throat. Hwitaek’s gag was cut off by him giving a loud moan, enjoying the way Hyojong’s cock felt at his throat. Hyojong let go of his hair, before he could be too affected by the gagging, and Hwitaek resumed bobbing his head with that same, suction-tight force.

Hyojong was gasping out grunts, and groans, and he was breathing heavily enough for Hwitaek to be able to decipher ever inhale and exhale, even over the sound of the shower. Hwitaek only sucked a little harder, dipped his head forward a little further. He could taste the precome pooling on his tongue. He almost liked it.

Hyojong was looking down at him, looking like he was completely in awe. His gaze was fixed on where Hwitaek’s mouth met Hyojong’s skin, his eyes dark and hazy. His hot-pink lips were parted, moans strewn past them.

“Fuck, Hwitaek,” Hyojong choked out, the hand on the back of the red-haired man’s head applying more pressure. The older man’s name sounded so good, whenever Hyojong said it. He liked his name, anyway, but Hyojong rarely ever said it, so it was especially nice to hear. He enunciated every syllable and sound, and Hwitaek wanted to listen to him say his name forever. Hwitaek’s lips and tongue worked around him quickly, swallowing his own saliva and the other man’s precome. He tightened his lips around Hyojong’s girth, pulling his head back with a wet suck. “I’m gonna come.”

Hwitaek half-hummed, half-moaned a response. He was so turned on by doing this to Hyojong, he could hardly think straight. Hyojong was weakly bucking his hips, just barely enough to fuck his cock into Hwitaek’s mouth. Hwitaek was sucking as hard as he could, his cheeks and tongue flush against Hyojong’s skin. He bobbed his head all the way from the very tip, down until his lips met his hand. He pulled back with a hard suck once, twice, moaning as Hyojong’s fingers pulled at his hair. Hyojong gave a buck of his hips, and a loud groan. Then another. And then come was spilling hot and bitter onto Hwitaek’s tongue. Hyojong was groaning loudly, whimpers bubbling up from his throat. Hwitaek pulled back to latch his lips on the slick skin of the head of Hyojong’s cock, and sucked the come out of him, through his orgasm.

Hwitaek swallowed everything that was given to him, smiling up at the blond. He could feel it run hot down his throat. The thought of what he was doing turned him on more than it probably should have. It wasn’t half as gross as Hyojong had been letting on. It wasn’t like it tasted _good_ , of course. But it also didn’t taste _bad_. He stood up, standing close to Hyojong. Hyojong was leaning his head against the shower wall, breaths deep and relaxed. His hair was sticking to his forehead and cheeks, so Hwitaek carefully moved them out of the way, brushing his hair back.

Hyojong’s lips curled up in a smile. “Was it as gross as I said it would be?” he asked. Water was shining against his shoulders, running in streaks down his muscular chest and stomach. He raised a hand from his side, so he could put it on the back of Hwitaek’s neck. He was pulling him in, but Hwitaek was still smiling at what he’d just done.

Hwitaek shook his head. “I liked it,” he said. Hyojong pressed their lips together, kissing Hwitaek softly on the mouth.

The blond pulled back, eyebrows knit. “You _liked_ it?” he asked in disbelief. “No one likes swallowing, it’s gross.”

“I liked it,” Hwitaek repeated. “I _told_ you I wanted to do it, I don’t know why you didn’t believe me.” He skimmed his tongue over the inside of Hyojong’s bottom lip, allowing Hyojong to taste himself on his own tongue. Hyojong’s lips were impossibly soft, the skin warm and smooth to the touch. “Maybe you should start listening to me, Hyojong.”

Hyojong scoffed loudly. Their faces were close together. “I _do_ listen to you. But you’re the—”

“Hyojong, if you say class president, I’m never going to blow you again.” It was a lie. Hwitaek would drop to his knees right now, and blow Hyojong all over again, if Hyojong asked him to. But Hyojong always brought up how Hwitaek was the class president, and it was really tiring. Him having a position on the student council had _nothing_ to do with how much he liked sucking dick. They were two separate things, that Hwitaek just happened to exist in simultaneously.

Pink lips pursed. “Okay. Well. You don’t have to be so kinky, Hwitaek. It isn’t good for me.”

Hwitaek laughed out a snort. “I beg to differ,” he said, with a slow raise of his eyebrows. “So far, it’s been _pretty_ good for you.”

The blond rolled his eyes dramatically. “Oh, shut up,” he said, but his words had no bite to them, and he was dropping to his knees. He looked up at the older man, a sly smile on his face. Hwitaek was pretty sure he almost came. “Your turn.”  
#

They were both out of the shower, wearing Hyojong’s clothes, sitting at Hyojong’s coffee table and eating bowls of cereal.

Hwitaek was sitting as close to Hyojong as he could get, mostly because he really got affectionate after having an orgasm. Or whenever he was around Hyojong. He just wanted to touch the younger man as much as he could, and Hyojong hadn’t complained yet. So Hwitaek was taking advantage of that, and hat a leg looped over Hyojong’s, their sides pressed together.

“When do you want me to leave?” Hwitaek asked between bites of his cereal. It was for the best that Hwitaek was sitting, because after the most powerful orgasm he had ever received, his legs were explicably shaky. Seriously. Hyojong’s mouth had really done a number on him. It was wet, and warm, and his lips were so pink, and he’d pressed Hwitaek right up against the wall of the shower. Which was also for the best, considering how _little_ composure Hwitaek had, as soon as Hyojong had started. Luckily, Hyojong was strong enough to be able to hold him up, since Hwitaek had immediately become dead weight. He had come embarrassingly quickly—and loudly, for that matter—and he’d even had to have Hyojong help him out of the shower, when they were finished. Needless to say, Hwitaek had rather enjoyed his time, here.

Hyojong shrugged. He was watching whatever was on the television, a bored expression on his face. His hair was drying in waves, stands curling around his cute face. He was—unfortunately—wearing a shirt now, but it was just tight enough for Hwitaek to be able to see the hard lines of his pectoral muscles. “I don’t care,” Hyojong said. “Whenever.”

A really helpful response, as usual. Hyojong was always so helpful. “I’ll probably get going after we eat. I have another test I need to study for.” He also needed to work on their chemistry project, but he didn’t want to bring that up. Hyojong was being so peaceful.

Hyojong looked at Hwitaek like he was out of his mind. “You could probably pass without studying, you know.”

Hwitaek sighed. “Maybe. But I don’t want to take the risk, and I have to get a good score to keep my grades and my GPA up.” As the class president, he really had to keep his grades above average. It was important that he get good grades on his official transcript, and he needed to make a good impression for the school.

“Whatever you say,” Hyojong said. “Are we going to make out before you leave, or are you leaving me dry?”

The red-haired man leaned in, putting his face close to the lighter haired man’s. “We will,” he said, in his signature cute voice.

Hyojong laughed, slinging an arm over Hwitaek’s shoulders. “Right now?” he asked, pulling the older man closer.

Hwitaek leaned away from Hyojong, laughing at his antics. “Let me finish eating, first,” he said, shoving another spoonful in his mouth. Hwitaek sat back up, allowing Hyojong’s arm to stay over his shoulders. He liked being like this, with Hyojong.

The door of Hyojong’s apartment opened up, and five people were entering.

Shinwon was grinning, looking up at the ceiling, instead of at where Hyojong and Hwitaek were sitting. “Guess who almost sucked a dick last night!” He exclaimed, happier than Hwitaek had ever seen him. He would have bet anything that it had to do with Changgu.

The five men stopped moving, all eyes directed towards where Hwitaek was huddled up against Hyojong’s side. Shinwon’s eyes found them, and Hwitaek could see it slowly processing through his brain. When he realized, his eyebrows knit.

Hwitaek turned to look back at Hyojong. His eyes were wide.

Shinwon was talking, before Hwitaek and Hyojong could _beg_ him to keep quiet. “Oh my god.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back at it again with my cliffhangers because I don't know how to end chapters.
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed this short, sweet chapter!
> 
> Please leave a comment telling me how you feel about this chapter! Some of you wanted Hwitaek's perspective, again, and a lot of you wanted more smut! Any comments are appreciated ^^
> 
> Instagram: hypjpng


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is on time, as promised! I don't really like this chapter, but it was sort of fun to write.
> 
> Also, I'd really like to thank you all for 300+ kudos!! I had no idea I'd ever get attention for this fic, and I'm so glad there are 300 people who have liked it enough to leave a kudos. That really means a lot to me, so thank you all so much!

“I may have just made a huge mistake.”

Wooseok was on the other end of the line. “What do you mean?” he asked. Hyojong had just fucked Hwitaek. In his own bed. And it had been so, so fucking good. Better than Hyojong could have ever imagined, from the kissing, to the blowjob, to the actually sex, to afterwards, when they’d hung out and had a fine time. Long story short, it had made Hyojong sort of feel like he was freaking the fuck out.

Hyojong was stumbling over his words. It felt like he was trying not to scream. Everything that had just happened had been so opposite of everything he believed himself to be. “I was arguing with Hwitaek, okay, and I was just so mad at him, but then I kissed him, and he kissed me back, and I ordered Chinese food, but we didn’t eat it, and I fucked him. Wooseok, I fucked Hwitaek. The class president. I fucked the class president, and it was so fucking good, and he liked it, and I liked it, and I wanna do it again, and again, and again, because he’s so hot and pretty. I’ve never had sex that good, Wooseok, and he’d never even _bottomed_ before, I took that away from him, and he’s only had sex one other time, and it was with a girl and he cried, but he didn’t cry this time, he really liked it and he was loud, and soft, and pretty, and he looks so fucking good naked, you have no idea. I really, really fucked him, but he’s the class president, and I’m just _me_ , and I thought I fucking hated him, Wooseok. He makes me so mad all the time, but I don’t think I hate him, I actually think it’s the opposite of that, because we ate the Chinese food and watched tv, and he’s really kind of cute and funny, and I like his laugh, and I had a lot of fun with him and it’s really freaking me out because I can’t like Hwitaek. He’s the last person on earth I can like, but it kind of feels like I do and it just really fucking makes me hate myself because I thought I knew who the hell I was.” He was out of breath by the time he was finished explaining everything. Panicking, maybe. He hadn’t meant to release that much information to Wooseok, but he was shaking, and freaking out, and he didn’t know what the hell else he was expected to do.

Wooseok was silent, for a moment. “First of all, calm down. You’re going to be fine.”

Truth be told, Hyojong was _not_ sure he was going to be fine, any time soon, because he couldn’t breathe, so he was gasping for air, and it just felt like the whole shitty world was out to get him. “Okay,” Hyojong said anyway. He was smoking enough for about three people, but it was the only thing keeping him as sane as he was.

“You fucked Hui?” Wooseok asked. “I mean, I sort of saw it coming, but this soon?”

Hyojong was fairly certain he was being suffocated to death. “Yes,” he said. “I fucked him, and it was _so_ good.”

“Okay, well.” Wooseok sighed. “We know you don’t hate him. Hui is a cool dude. It’s okay that you think he’s cool, even if he’s the class president.”

Hyojong frowned, even though he knew Wooseok couldn’t see him. “It isn’t okay. He’s the class president, and I’m the class delinquent. I hate class presidents.” He always had. It was just the way things went. Hating the class president, for Hyojong, was as simple as breathing.

Which, in retrospect, was funny, considering how hard of a time he was having with breathing, right now.

“Why?” Wooseok asked. “Just because he’s the class president? That doesn’t mean he’s not just a regular person. You can’t hate someone solely based off of the label put on them. I know you don’t like people very much, but Hui is great. He’s nice, and funny. Just because he’s different from you doesn’t mean he’s wrong.”

Hyojong rolled his eyes. He knew Wooseok was right. “I don’t like loud, obnoxious people, or people who kiss ass, or preppy people like that. You know that.” Regardless of the class president label, Hwitaek was not the type of person Hyojong gravitated towards. Usually.

“Bullshit you don’t like loud people, Hyojong. All of your friends are loud as fuck.”

“Fine,” Hyojong pouted. The loud thing only applied to preppy people.

“Also. Hui obviously isn’t as typical as you make him out to be, if he just slept with you. He’s not like the other, annoying preppy people you know. If he likes hanging out with _you_ , and sleeping with _you_ , maybe you should realize that he’s different.”

Wooseok, annoyingly enough, had a point. If Hui was willing to get fucked by Hyojong, and cling to Hyojong all the time, he wasn’t like the preppy, example student Hyojong thought he was. “I guess so. But that goes against _everything_ I believe. I hate preps. I hate the student council. Having sex with Hwitaek was bad enough, but—”

“It was only bad because you’re deciding to freak out about it. You said it yourself: it was good. You both had fun. Maybe don’t demonize something you obviously enjoyed?” Wooseok sounded tired, and one-hundred-percent fed up with Hyojong’s bullshit. Hyojong couldn’t blame him. He was fed up with his own bullshit.

Hyojong wrinkled his nose. “No need to be mean to me,” Hyojong said dryly. He was having an easier time with the whole breathing thing, now. It felt a little less like he was going to die. “I get it. “ _Anyway_ , having sex with him was one thing. But that’s not even what I’m _worried_ about. I like Hwitaek’s _personality_ , and his stupid laugh, and spending time with him was _fun_. Is that fucked, or what?”

Wooseok gave a quiet laugh. “It isn’t _fucked_. Maybe you like being Hui’s friends. We all do. Or, maybe, you _like_ him.”

“Absolutely absurd,” Hyojong said, quicker than he should have. “I’m just being stupid because I just had sex with him. There’s no way I have feeling for Hwitaek. I’ll go back to being mean to him after I get some sleep.”

“Right. It’s not the end of the world if you like a guy, you know. It’ll probably be _good_ for you, actually.”

Hyojong hated liking people. It made him feel… icky. That was the best he could describe it. Icky. “What do you mean?”

“I’m just saying,” Wooseok sighed. “You’re happy when you date people.” Dating was entirely off the table. Not happening. Hyojong was not about to ruin his life, like that. “Plus, then you won’t have to make out with me, when you’re horny and alone.”

Hyojong laughed loudly, at that. It echoed in the parking lot of his apartment. “You should feel blessed that I made out with you,” he said. He took a deep breathe, and threw the butt of his cigarette on the ground. He smashed it under his foot. “Sorry for waking you up. Thank you, Wooseok.”

“It’s fine,” Wooseok said softly. “I just didn’t want to wake Yanan up.”

Hyojong raised his eyebrows. “Oh, Yanan is there?”

“Yes.”

“Did you bone him?” Hyojong asked, cackling at his own words.

Wooseok sighed, but Hyojong could hear that he was smiling. “I’m going back to sleep, Hyojong.”

“I hope you had fun, Wooseokie,” Hyojong laughed.

“Goodnight, Hyojong.”

Hyojong was already starting towards his apartment building, preparing to walk up a ridiculous number of stairs. “Tell Yanan I said hi.”

Wooseok grunted what was probably supposed to be a response, and hung up.

Hyojong put his phone back in his pocket, and smiled down at the ground. What a wild night, this had been. It had been fun. Much to Hyojong’s despair, Wooseok had been right about nearly ecerything. Not the part about liking Hwitaek, though. That was a little extreme. When he woke up, he was probably going to be just as mean, and unenthused about Hwitaek, as usual. It was just a good night, of good sex. That was all.

#

 

As soon as Hyojong had wrapped his lips around Hwitaek’s cock, the older man had practically fucking _screamed_.

Hyojong’s morning had not gone as he had planned. He could barely sleep, in the first place, and he’d woken up early, just to fret about what to do with Hwitaek. He had told him that it was just sex. He had meant that. It was just sex that happened to be the best thing Hyojong had ever experienced.

Hwitaek had woken up, all messy-haired, and doe-eyed. He was still begrudgingly cute. And Hyojong was still not angry when Hwitaek had cuddled with him. And he’d suggested to shower with Hwitaek, and it was there that he’d received the best blowjob of his entire life. Even better than the previous night’s. And for whatever _sick, twisted_ , reason, Hwitaek had wanted to swallow. And he had. And it was literally the hottest thing anyone had ever done for Hyojong.

So, Hyojong had pressed Hwitaek against the shower wall. And he’d fallen to his knees. And he’d gotten annoyed about how good Hwitaek looked, even from this angle, when he was wet from the shower.

Hyojong had held Hwitaek’s cock in place with a hand, and opened his mouth wide. He took him in, all the way to the base. Unlike Hwitaek, Hyojong’s gag reflex wasn’t really a problem, for him. He’d gag if he stayed down for too long, or if he went way too deep, but other than that, it rarely ever bothered him.

And Hwitaek fucking _wailed_. His thin fingers immediately found Hyojong’s wet hair, tangling in the long blond strands. He was so loud, and he sounded so desperate.

Hyojong tried not to smile, since there was a cock currently in his mouth, and he started bobbing his head. Hwitaek’s cock was slick with precome, which was gross, but Hyojong kept bobbing his head quickly.

He didn’t do this, a lot. Give head. He preferred to fuck, and get his own dick sucked, of course. It wasn’t that he didn’t _like_ sucking dick—it was fine. It just rarely ever came up, and he didn’t like it enough to offer to do it a lot. But Hwitaek had just sucked his soul out of his dick, so Hyojong figured he should return the favour and do the same. Besides. If he had known Hwitaek was going to react like _this_ , he would have done it a hell of a lot sooner.

Hyojong curled his tongue around the head of Hwitaek’s cock, and Hwitaek’s whole body shook with the sensation. Hyojong had both of his hands on the red-haired man’s hips, holding him hard against the wall. If he let go, he wasn’t sure that Hwitaek wouldn’t just topple forward, right on top of him.

He laved his tongue against the very tip, swiping precome off of the slit. It tasted gross, of course, but he just swallowed it down with his saliva, and kept going, for the sake of Hwitaek making more of those noises. Every movement Hyojong made, with his lips, or his tongue, Hwitaek gave a loud moan, or groan, or whimper, and it was honestly fueling Hyojong’s sex drive as he knew it.

Hyojong wasn’t even sucking, yet. He was just bobbing his head back and forth on the older man’s cock, enveloping him wet heat. His lips were easily sliding over the sensitive skin, his girth fitted right between them. His tongue was rubbing over the underside, tasting the warm surface.

“ _Oh my god_ ,” Hwitaek groaned, and there was nothing in his voice except trembling pleasure. His fingers tightened in Hyojong’s hair, hips trying to buck forward. Hyojong held his hips against the wall harder.

He bobbed over the shaft, his own spit mixing in with Hwitaek’s precome, and the water from the shower. Hyojong wrapped his lips tight around the base, and pulled back, giving a long, hard suck. Hwitaek moaned loudly, the hand that wasn’t tangled in Hoyjong’s hair coming down to stabilize on his shoulder. Hyojong was holding the majority of Hwitaek’s weight, and it only turned him on more. Precome leaked onto his tongue, and he wrinkled his nose. It really tasted gross, but all thoughts of that were gone as soon as he directed his eyes up to the older man’s face.

Hwitaek was pressed flush against the wall, his head thrown back, faded red hair sticking to the shower wall, and to his face. His lips were dripping with water, parted so he could moan, loud enough to fill the entire bathroom with the noise. His eyes were shit, brows furrowed, and his cheeks were so, so pink. Hyojong had seen a lot of erotic things, just in the past twelve hours, but nothing even came close to this. This was undoubtedly the sexiest thing Hyojong had ever seen.

Hyojong can feel the way Hwitaek trembles with every, with his hands on his hips, and Hwitaek’s hand on his shoulder and in his hair, and with his mouth around his cock. His thighs are shaking, threatening to give out, if it hadn’t been for Hyojong holding him up. Hwitaek is barely breathing, short gasps echoing in the shower. His fingers keep curling in to scrape at Hyojong’s shoulder, trying to get a grip on anything that could possibly keep him grounded.

Hyojong just keeps going. Keeps sucking, his cheeks hollowed out as far as they could go, his tongue sliding against as much of Hwitaek’s cock as he can manage. His lips were air-tight, and he could tell that they were going to be raw, after this, and Hwitaek’s hand in his hair hurt,, but in a way that Hyojong found rather pleasurable. His whole scalp was tingling with the feeling, and his mouth was full of Hwitaek’s cock, and he really couldn’t think of anything that sounded more erotic than what he was doing, right at the moment.

He dipped in a little farther, taking Hwitaek all the way into his mouth. He let his tongue swirl around the girth a few times, licking salty precome off of his skin, and gently sucking at his entire length. He looked up at Hwitaek, again, his eyes meeting Hwitaek’s dark, blown-out pupils. He sucked hard, pulling his head back torturously slow, making sure to get his lips around every hard centimeter of Hwitaek’s cock. His lips were locked around the ridge of the head, and Hyojong gave a similar, tight suck. Hwitaek gasped for air, his chest rising and falling, his fingers curling against bare skin, and in Hyojong’s hair. Hyojong’s tongue came out to lick against the slit.

And Hwitaek was coming with a loud, sob-like moan.

Hyojong was sure even he hadn’t been expecting it. Hyojong pulled off of him, instead using his hand to pump the rest of his orgasm out of him. There was the taste of bitter come coating his tongue, and his lips, but the shower at least washed away the latter.

Hwitaek’s head was thrown back, high-pitched moans bubbling up from his throat, his whole body trembling above Hyojong. Come was painting over Hyojong’s knuckles, quickly washed down the drain.

“Fuck,” Hwitaek gasped, his hips rocking forward. “Fuck, Hyojong.”

Hyojong stood, giving one last, slick pump over the older man’s cock. “Yeah?” he asked, a smile forming on his lips. Hwitaek was so desperate, and eager, and inexplicably _good_ in bed. He looked so fucked out, and tired, and Hyojong couldn’t help but to lean forward and kiss him on the mouth.

He knew his mouth tasted like Hwitaek, but Hwitaek’s entire tongue tasted of Hyojong’s come. While that regularly would have grossed Hyojong out, he couldn’t be bothered to mind it. Hwitaek’s lips were slick, and soft, and malleable. And all he wanted to do was kiss them.

“To answer your question from last night,” Hwitaek said, referring to when they’d been arguing. “I do like giving head.”

“Yeah,” Hwitaek panted, a soft smile curling his soft pink lips upward. “I can tell.”

#

As soon as the door opened, Hyojong knew he was dead.

It was either someone breaking in to kill him and take his plants, or it was his friends, which he actually preferred _less_ to being murdered.

Shinwon was grinning, looking up at the ceiling, his arms spread out wide, because if he wasn’t being as flamboyant and obnoxious as possible, was it really Shinwon? “Guess who almost sucked a dick last night!” he exclaimed. He wasn’t looking at where Hyojong and Hwitaek were, on the couch. If Hyojong had been in his right mind, he would have scooted away from the older man, or pushed Hwitaek off of the couch, or something reasonable. Unfortunately, Hyojong had just been giving the orgasm of a lifetime, so his mind was still a bit hazy. 

Shinwon finally looked down where they were seated, taking in the sight. Hwitaek was leaning against Hyojong’s side, both of them eating cereal, an arm still left on Hwitaek’s shoulders from when Hyojong had tried to make out with him. Shinwon’s face shifted with his oncoming realization, and then he got it. The lightbulb dinged above his head. “Oh my god,” he said, looking between Hyojong and Hwitaek. The other four were stopped just past Hyojong’s doorframe, looking at the two men.

It was clear why Hwitaek was here. All of them, save for Wooseok, knew that Hyojong would have rather died than have Hwitaek over for a regular, jolly ‘ole time. It was obvious that Hwitaek had stayed the night, for sex purposes. If it wasn’t obvious, the dark hickeys painting his neck made it so. If that still wasn’t enough, Hyojong had visible scratches peeking out from the sleeves of his t-shirt. There were enough indications of what they’d done, and how well it had gone.

Plus, Hyojong realized with a feeling of despair, their hair was still wet. Which meant that it was obvious that they not only fucked last night, but also again this morning. Which was spot on, but Hyojong really wished it wasn’t.

Kino peeked out from around his boyfriend’s shoulder, waving enthusiastically. “Hey Hyojong, hi Hui.” Friendly, as usual. At least this dreaded conversation didn’t start of with ‘ _Hey Hyojong, did you fuck Hui?_ ’ like Hyojong had expected it to.

Hwitaek’s eyes flickered back to Hyojong, probably to see if the blond was panicking. Which, he was. Just not outwardly. “Hey, Kino,” he smiled. He sat up a little straighter, away from Hyojong’s body. Hyojong still had an arm wrapped over his shoulders, and he really considered cutting his own arm off, just to steer the conversation elsewhere.

Hyojong forced his face into a smile, feeling more dead inside than he usually was. “You almost sucked dick last night?” he tried. Hyojong had just sucked dick. The parallels were incredible.

Wooseok and Yanan sat on the couch across from where Hwitaek and Hyojong were sitting. Wooseok looked apologetic, and also a bit tired, and Hyojong couldn’t help bit to feel bad about it.

Yuto sat next to Wooseok, and Kino sat on top of Yuto, because he didn’t believe in chairs, apparently.

“As a matter of fact,” Shinwon said, raising his eyebrows. He sat on one of the big chairs Hyojong had, crossing one thin leg over the other. “I almost did. After Changgu and I went to McDonald’s, we made out in my car, and I was going to, but then I panicked and decided to drive him home. I really love my life,” he said sarcastically.

Hyojong snorted. “I never would’ve thought you’d be the type to panic over a blowjob,” he said. Shinwon was so overly confident about being ‘the gorgeous queen of the gays,’ as he put it. Hyojong would have never guessed that something as trivial as a blowjob would freak him out. Hell, Hyojong had just given amazing head to who he was pretty sure was his lifelong enemy. If he could do that, and enjoy it, he didn’t understand why Shinwon got nervous.

Shinwon glared at the blond. “I _wouldn’t_ have regularly panicked, but Changgu is _literally_ the hottest man on the face of the earth. It wasn’t my fault.”

There was an odd moment of silence, where Hyojong was pretty sure everyone else in the room was trying to figure out how Changgu was even the hottest man at the party last night, much less on the planet.

“Right,” Hyojong said slowly. He got up to set his bowl in his sink, giving him an excuse to remove his arm from Hwitaek’s shoulders, and put a little bit of space between them.

“Also,” Shinwon said, and Hyojong knew he was going to regret being friends with this guy. “Nice hickeys, Hui.”

Hyojong regretted having friends.

The red-haired man’s hands clapped over the sides of his neck, covering the dark bruises there. “I have hickeys?” he asked quickly, turning to shoot a look at Hyojong. Poor class president. Hyojong wondered what all of Hwitaek’s friends would think about the perfect model student being covered in hickeys. The thought put a smile on his face.

Hyojong frowned. “What?” he asked. Why _he_ was being blamed, he didn’t know. Hwitaek was just as much at fault as he was. Besides, how the fuck did he not notice sooner? “Do you not ever look in mirrors?”

Hwitaek rolled his eyes. “ _Obviously_ , I didn’t, but I just assumed I didn’t have any. I can’t go to class like this.”

He literally couldn’t go an hour without arguing, could he? It was good to know that Hwitaek pissed him off just as much as he always had. “Just cover them up, it’s not that hard. Don’t bitch at me, for fuck’s sake—”

“Stop arguing,” Shinwon sighed. Hyojong closed his mouth, but sent another mean glare to Hyojong. “Anyway. You two had sex.”

Hyojong closed his eyes. Everything in the universe was out to get him. “You don’t know that.”

Yuto shook his head. He better stay quiet, unless he wants Hyojong to square up and—“It’s pretty obvious, dude.” Hyojong was about to argue that it _wasn’t_ , but Yuto was nodding towards Hyojong’s body. “You obviously just showered together, Hui has hickeys, you’re eating breakfast together, and you have scratches on your arms.”

Hyojong snapped his head to look at the older man. “Should I get mad at you for that?” he asked quickly. He _knew_ his arms looked majorly fucked up, and his back was even worse. Hwitaek had really done a number on him, but he wasn’t blaming Hwitaek for all of that. 

Hwitaek pursed his lips.

“How was it?” Kino asked, a wide smile on his face. He probably didn’t mean anything bad by it, he was just curious and trying to get the conversation moving. But still.

“I’m not answering that,” Hyojong said dryly.

At the same time, Hwitaek was innocently saying, “it was good.”

Shinwon wrinkled his nose. “I actually didn’t want to know.” Yuto laughed loudly.

Hyojong sighed. “You weren’t supposed to answer that,” he said, turning to look back at the red-haired man. He should have known that. Hyojong ran a hand through his own hair, shaking his head at the total lack of common sense Hwitaek had. Some things did not have to be as complicated as Hwitaek made them out to be.

“How would I know that?” Hwitaek asked. He got up to set his bowl next to Hyojong’s. When he sat back down, he was _far_ closer than Hyojong wanted him to be.

Baffled. Hyojong was baffled. “Just keep some information to yourself.”

“ _Anyway_ ,” Shinwon said, narrowing his eyes. “You guys had sex, because apparently I’m the only one who can keep it in my pants.” Hyojong snorted loudly. “And I don’t want to hear _any_ details. I _really_ don’t want to think about you two having sex.”

“Not a problem,” Hyojong said. It wouldn’t be a problem, if Hwitaek could keep his loud, pretty mouth shut.

“We all saw it coming, though, didn’t we?” Yuto asked. Everyone else nodded, save for Hwitaek and Hyojong. His friends could be so annoying, sometimes. They should have just left it alone. Hyojong told Wooseok, because he was freaking out, and because he was fine with Wooseok knowing. But there were too many of the others, and Hyojong didn’t want to hear whatever they had to say about the current situation.

Hyojong rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Why are you guys even _here_?” He was about to make out with Hwitaek. He would rather that go uninterrupted.

“Originally, it was because I wanted to tell you about my experiences with Changgu,” Shinwon sniffed. “But now, I’m mostly here to make fun of you.”

Yuto laughed, and Kino smiled at him quizzically. “Bet Hyojong gets loud in bed,” he laughed, nudging Wooseok with an elbow. Wooseok smiled, shaking his head, and even Yanan gave a small smile.

Hyojong could hear Hwitaek take a breath to start talking, so he whipped his head towards him. He looked at Hwitaek with a scowl, wondering if all of this was really worth having to deal with Hwitaek blabbering every detail of their amazing, hot, wonderful sex life. “Do _not_ say anything,” he warned, narrowing his eyes.

Hwitaek shut his mouth, looking back to the others. He just shrugged. He really was incapable of saying anything that didn’t torture Hyojong, wasn’t he? He could have easily denied the question, or told them that he didn’t want to answer, but apparently his self-control was worse than Hyojong gave it credit for. Instead of simply averting the question, he had to keep his mouth shut altogether. He was ridiculous.

“I take that as a yes,” Shinwon said, giving a shit-eating grin.

“Fuck off.”

Hwitaek was fidgeting. He looked cute. Really, really cute. His hair was drying in waves, and his skin looked soft—and Hyojong knew for a fact that it was. His eyes got a little wider whenever he spoke, and his lips moved together with the sound. He looked pretty, in an oddly plain way. Like, he had no extra embellishments, or accessories, or anything to push him towards being attractive. He just was. He was pretty. Without any sort of help from anyone, Hwitaek had glowing skin, and soft hair, and—quite possibly—a perfect facial structure. He was just fucking good looking. “I should probably get going, soon,” he said. Hyojong shrugged. When Hwitaek stood up, he gave a wince that Hyojong almost missed. Just a slight narrowing of his eyes. It was barely noticeable.

“Well,” Shinwon said, looking between Hwitaek and Hyojong. “It looks like my guess was right.”

“What guess?” Hyojong guessed, pursing his lips.

“About who tops and who bottoms,” he smiled. “Be gentle with him, Hyojong, he’s not indestructible.” Which, in turn, only made Hyojong want to _not_ be gentle with him. That wasn’t the type of person he was. “He’s too pure for you.”

That, at least, may have been true. Then again… “He’s not as pure as you think,” he said, before he could physically stop himself. It was true, though. Hwitaek had been a lot more open, and sexual than Hyojong had realized. The off-hand comments about him wanting Hyojong to be mean to him were always a bit off, but seeing how eager Hwitaek was to suck him off, and get fucked by him was a real treat. Hwitaek was no where as pure as Hyojong had expected him to be. He loved it. He also was really, really scared of it.  
Hwitaek entered the living room, dressed in his own clothing, again. It was sort of disappointing, actually. Hyojong thought he’d looked really nice in Hyojong’s clothes. Hwitaek’s ears were red, and Hyojong wasn’t sure if it was because he changed, or because of Hyojong’s comment. Either way, he looked flustered, and it was really cute. Also odd, how someone could get so easily embarrassed, after taking Hyojong’s cock so well. “What was that?” he asked, sitting back down on the couch. His arm bumped Hyojong’s, and the younger man almost wanted to hiss at him. His skin was so _soft_ , and any sort of contact was almost guaranteed to turn Hyojong on.

Hyojong just shifted so he was sitting away from Hwitaek’s incredibly lithe, soft body. “Nothing,” he shrugged. “I just told Shinwon that you’re not as pure as you look.” Which, right now, was really, really pure. His honey-toned skin was tinted pink at his cheeks, his dark round eyes sparkling like some sort of baby animal. His hair was clean, and so was his skin, and besides the fact that he’d just swallowed Hyojong’s come like it was a holy meal, _he_ looked clean. Sparkly. Fresh. Whatever it was called. He just looked nice.

Hwitaek chewed on his lower lip, and Hyojong could feel his soul and his dignity escaping his body. “Oh,” he said softly. He smiled down at his lap, eyes flickering to Hyojong. “I guess not.”

Hyojong smiled. His heart was beating too fast. He was like a hummingbird. If the said hummingbird was about to have a heart attack from how cute Hwitaek was. “Definitely not,” he said. Hwitaek just grinned at him.

“Cute,” Shinwon said dryly.

“I’m proud of you for almost hooking up with Changgu,” Hyojong chuckled. “You’ve been a real bitch, lately. Maybe if you bang Changgu, it’ll help.” Whatever reason Shinwon was uptight, Hyojong was sure Changgu could easily solve. He was naturally a catty person, everyone knew that. But maybe getting a dick up his ass would help simmer that down to a tolerable level.

“Really?” Shinwon blinked, tilting his head to the side. “You fucked Hwitaek, and you’re still being a bitch.”

Hyojong couldn’t help but to laugh, at that. “Touché.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't like this chapter, so I'd love to hear your thoughts on it! If you enjoyed it, or even if you didn't, please let me know! This story is really picking up, and I hope I can continue to write something you all enjoy!
> 
> Instagram: hypjpng


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hwitaek is pushed to have a realization.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys, here is this week's chapter! It's really short, and not very good, but I felt like I needed to get Hwitaek's thought process out of the way, so I could continue on the more exciting parts of this story.
> 
> Thank you all for the increasing kudos and comments on this fic, it means the world to me!
> 
> Enjoy!

Hwitaek, after leaving Hyojong’s apartment, didn’t see any of his roommates for the rest of that day.

Luckily, it gave him enough time to catch up on the homework he’d missed while he was with Hyojong. Unfortunately, the next morning, he was met with the judgmental gaze of his friends. It was before he had to go to his classes, and he was opening the fridge to get some milk.

He was in a good mood. Still. Regardless of he and Hyojong’s banter, the mere thought of everything he and Hyojong had done made him smile. The kissing, the cuddling, talking to their friends about their now-existent sex life. Even the little bit of arguing made Hwitaek feel good.

In fact, he was smiling down at the carton of milk when he turned around to meet Hongseok’s face. “Oh,” Hwitaek said, still smiling. Jinho was practically attached to Hongseok’s side, Changgu sitting at the table in their kitchen. “Hey, Hongseok. Hey, guys.”

“Hey, Hui. You missed the game yesterday.” He was totally awake and dressed, as always, looking like he’d been awake for hours. Changgu looked less awake, but still immaculately put together, and Hwitaek was fairly certain Jinho was asleep on Hongseok.

Hwitaek turned around to pour himself some milk. “Oh, yeah, I’m sorry. I accidentally fell asleep at Hyojong’s place, so I just ended up staying the night there. I slept in really late, so by the time I woke up, I’d already missed it.” All of that was true. He did fall asleep at Hyojong’s, and he did end up staying the night. All die to the amazing sex they’d had, but whatever. HE could manage to spare a few details.

“Right,” Hongseok nodded. “It’s fine that you missed the game. I know you don’t like those. But you should’ve told us where you were.”

“I’m sorry,” Hwitaek repeated. “I was safe at Hyojong’s, you know. Everything is okay.” He gave a bright smile. He hadn’t meant to worry his friends. He just figured they knew where he was, since that was where they all had been. Plus, he’d been with Hyojong. Hyojong was safe. Dangerously hot, maybe. But Hyojong was good, and nice to Hwitaek. Nothing could have gone wrong, with Hyojong there.

“We were just worried. I’m glad you had fun.”

“You like Hyojong, don’t you?” Jinho asked, peeking around Hongseok’s shoulder.

“What?” Hwitaek laughed. “What made you say that?” He hadn’t said anything about Hyojong, other than the fact that he’d been safe with him. Jinho was being ridiculous. There was no Hwitaek had alluded to liking him, just by mentioning him once.

“Well, you had sex with him, right?” Jinho asked, giving a happy smile. He had one of his arms wrapped around one of Hongseok’s longer ones.

This time, instead of Hyojong, it was Hwitaek who choked on air. “W-what? How did you—? I—” He shook his head, trying to get oxygen up to his brain. Now he knew how Hyojong felt. It wasn’t ideal, but it also wasn’t bad enough for him to quit doing it to Hyojong. Hyojong’s reactions were _really_ cute. “What?” was all he could manage to get out.

“A turtleneck?” Changgu asked from the table in their kitchen. “In _this_ weather? Please, we know you have hickeys.” Suddenly, Changgu and Shinwon were starting to make a lot more sense.

“I was cold,” Hwitaek tried. Even to him it sounded more like a question than a statement.

“Don’t lie,” Hongseok said. “We know you had sex with Hyojong.”

It felt like Hwitaek was getting scolded by his parents. He crossed his arms over his chest. “How could you _possibly_ know that?” he asked. They could have just made out. Or done a number of things that did not mean going all the way, and having sex. There was no way for them to know for sure that he’d gotten fucked for the first time in his life, and loved it more than anything.

“You’re all happy,” Jinho grinned. “You’ve been smiling all morning.”

“I have not,” Hwitaek said, trying to restrain a smile. He was sure that was convincing.

“Yes, you have,” Jinho said, coming forward to smack Hwitaek on the arm. “You look really happy, it’s great.”

“Also,” Changgu said, holding up his phone. “Shinwon texted me yesterday and told me you had sex with Hyojong.” If the two of them became a couple, it was really over for Hwitaek. HE would never be able to breathe, again.

“Speaking of Shinwon,” Hwitaek said, nodding down at Changgu, “I’ll definitely be talking to you about that, later.”

Changgu’s eyes got a little wider, but he kept his signature smile on his face. “I’m ready for anything,” he winked.

“Okay,” Hwitaek sighed, turning back to Hongseok and Jinho. “Fine, I slept with Hyojong.” He was still trying not to smile, but it was hard. Hyojong had been _so_ good. So rough, and sexy, when they were actually doing it. His hands were rough, and so were his lips, and his mouth, and even the slight stubble that had scraped over Hwitaek’s skin. Hwitaek liked that. He liked the thin border between pain and pleasure, and he liked it even more when the two overlapped. Like when Hyojong pulled his hair. That was… good. Really, really good. Too good, perhaps. Hwitaek most definitely should _not_ have been thinking about it, so early in the morning.

“And,” Jinho started, smiling expectantly. “You like him.”

Hwitaek scoffed. “I already said I don’t.” He liked Hyojong as a friend. And someone who was really good at sex. “We’re just friends with benefits.” Friends. With benefits. That’s what Hyojong had agreed to. They were finally, finally friends. It made Hwitaek giddy. And they were having sex. Which Hwitaek was absolutely ecstatic about. Casual sex was everything Hwitaek had heard about in movies, and books, and from other college students. Needless to say, Hwitaek felt pretty cool. Also, he could not _wait_ to sleep with Hyojong again.

“So, you’ll be having sex with him again?” Hongseok asked. It was like he could read Hwitaek’s mind. He looked shocked by the idea, though.

“Yeah… I want to.” _Really_ wanted to. He was still a little sore, but if Hyojong wanted to, Hwitaek would be over there without a moment of hesitation. “Why don’t you want me to?”

Hongseok shifted, so he was leaning against the wall. “It’s not that I don’t want you to,” he said. Jinho was still wrapped around the taller man. He was smiling up at Hwitaek, his cheek squished against him. Changgu was scrolling through his phone, as usual. “But I’m afraid you’re going to get hurt. You’re a good kid, and you’ve never acted out until you met Hyojong. And you know how Hyojong is. I don’t think he’s the type of person I’d think would be good for you.”

Hwitaek pursed his lips. “Hyojong is fine. I’m not _acting out_ , I’m just doing a little more with myself. And I’m not going to get hurt, because I don’t like Hyojong like that. Me sleeping with Hyojong isn’t as bad as you’re making it out to be. I’ll be fine.”

“Ever since you met him, you’ve started drinking, and getting high, and you even went as far as to have sex with him. What I’m trying to say, is—"

“I can drink, I’m not a minor. Weed is fun, and it’s not like I do it all the time. And _I_ was the one who wanted to sleep with Hyojong, not the other way around. You shouldn’t worry about me.” Hyojong wasn’t even half as bad as Hongseok was making him out to be. Hyojong wans’t a bad influence. He was good. Hyojong was really good.

“We like Hyojong,” Jinho said softly. “We’re just worried you’re going to change for Hyojong.”

Hwitaek wasn’t changing. He’d never changed. If anything, he was just able to open up a little, and be more of himself. None of his other friends were into the types of things he’d been curious about, but Hyojong was. “I’ve always like that sort of thing. Sex isn’t the worst thing in the world, it’s not like you haven’t had sex.” Hongseok and Jinho shared a brief look. “I _like_ what Hyojong and I do.”

“I don’t think Hyojong is good news,” Hongseok said quickly. “He smokes on campus, he’s constantly high, he fails his classes, and he’s rude. How does he seem like a good person?”

Hwitaek frowned, giving a scoff. “Hyojong _is_ a good person. You’ve met him once, how would you know?” Hongseok didn’t know Hyojong. Hyojong didn’t know Hongseok. Their dislike for each other was based off of nothing.

“Well, how do you know he’s not just taking advantage of you, and using you?”

Jinho stood up straight, and frowned at Hongseok. “Hongseok, don’t say that.” He sighed. “All I was trying to say, is that if you slept with him, you must at least like him a little. I wasn’t trying to start anything.”

Hwitaek didn’t know what to say. He set his glass down, shaking his head. He sighed, looking right at Hongseok. “You really think Hyojong is using me, just for sex?”

Hongseok crossed his arms over his chest. “How do you know he isn’t? I’m not trying to be mean, I’m just worried about you. You and Hyojong are so different, I just know you’re going to get hurt.”

“Listen, Hongseok,” Hwitaek said. He kind of felt like crying. Just because he was so frustrated. No one understood what he was trying to get across. “Hyojong isn’t a bad person. He’s really funny, and he’s different, and he’s so nice to me, and I really like being around him. I’m sorry you don’t like him, but…” Hwitaek trailed off, staring down at the tiles of the floor. He didn’t even know what he had been about to say. He was just really riled up because of this conversation.

“But you do?” Jinho tried.

Hwitaek walked past them. He didn’t want to talk about this. This wasn’t how he had intended to start his morning.

He couldn’t believe Hongseok thought so poorly of Hyojong. He didn’t even know him. Hwitaek had been the one who had wanted to try weed. He was the one who decided to drink, and most of all, Hyojong hadn’t even _thought_ to have sex with Hwitaek. Hwitaek had suggested it, and _Hyojong_ was the one who had been worried about it. Hyojong had been kind about it the whole time. No way was Hyojong the bad influence, in this situation. He couldn’t believe Hongseok didn’t like Hyojong. It didn’t matter, anyway. Hongseok didn’t like Hyojong, but… but… But Hwitaek… _Did_.

Hwitaek _liked_ Hyojong.

Oh.

He really did. He sort of figured he did, just because of the pleasant, warm feeling he got, whenever he looked at Hyojong. But he hadn’t been thinking about it, too much, because he liked Hyojong so much as a person and a friend. But he actually liked him. He liked how kind and funny he was, and his cute laugh, and how soft his hair was. He liked Hyojong’s witty remarks, and the way they argued about the most miniscule things, and what Hyojong looked like when he was focusing on something. He liked the way that he dressed, and acted, as if he didn’t have a single care in the world. He didn’t care what anyone else thought of him, because he was confident being who he was, and Hwitaek admired that. He liked how flustered Hyojong got so easily. He liked how tough Hyojong seemed on the outside, but even more so, he liked how Hyojong had plants all over his apartment, and he loved petting cats, and he used every colour of pen to decorate their chemistry poster. He was gentle, and funny, and kind, and cool, and Hwitaek liked that. Oh, man. He liked everything about Hyojong. He made Hwitaek feel good. Not just during sex, but always. Being around Hyojong made Hwitaek feel good. Hwitaek was always laughing when he was around him, and he couldn’t ever stop smiling. Hyojong made Hwitaek’s stomach do flips, and made him feel calm, and like he was on top of the world. That was why Hwitaek could never get him off of his mind.

Hwitaek turned around to look at Hongseok and Jinho.

“I like Hyojong.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know how you feel about this super short chapter! It's my least favourite chapter so far, and I was wondering if you feel the same? Do you like it, do you dislike it, what do you think about Hwitaek finally having feelings for Hyojong? Let me know in the comments!
> 
> Instagram: hypjpng  
> Tumblr: edqwn


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyojong was not a nervous person. Until it came to facing Hwitaek a week after they slept together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all!   
> I am so, so sorry for the delay in updating this chapter. I knew it was going to be a bit late, and then all of this stuff started happening within the fandom, so I wasn't really feeling up to writing this. I hope that, despite all of the drama that is currently happening, you all can keep up with this fic, and read it as you always have!
> 
> Again, I apologize for this chapter being so late, but I hope you all enjoy, nonetheless,
> 
> Thank you for reading!

Hyojong was not a nervous person. Truly. He took pride in being as calm as he was.

But right now, Hyojong’s nerves were less than impeccable.

He had missed his stupid chemistry class, two times in a row. Purely because of Hwitaek. He didn’t want to see him, or his round doe eyes, or his pretty red hair, or his bright, wide smile. Hwitaek was too pretty, and Hyojong had fucked him. And for some reason, that made Hyojong anxious. Hwitaek was too good, and Hyojong knew that.

And what was he supposed to do, after he had sex with Hwitaek? How the hell was he supposed to act? He couldn’t be as mean to Hwitaek as he had been, because doing something like that, after they slept together, was way shittier than Hyojong was alright with being. Besides, he wasn’t really sure he _wanted_ to be that mean to Hwitaek, because he just wasn’t feeling it. He also couldn’t be totally _nice_ to Hwitaek, because that wasn’t who he _was_ , and he didn’t want to have a huge change of personality. He was still freaking out about the discovery he’d made after they’d had sex, about not hating Hwitaek as much as he wanted to.

Even worse, Hyojong felt responsible for the other man’s feelings. He didn’t want to upset Hwitaek, for whatever reason there was.

So, he’d texted Hwitaek both times he’d missed class, making up some excuse about his car not working. In order for Hwitaek to not take it personally. Which he shouldn’t have cared about. He _Wouldn’t_ have regularly cared. Yet, here he was. Trying to not hurt Hwitaek’s feelings.

It sort of felt like Hyojong was going to throw up, or start laughing, or run away. That’s how nervous he was. He walked into the classroom, setting his skateboard against the wall. Hwitaek was sitting in the spot next to where Hyojong always sat. Hyojong didn’t _want_ to sit next to Hwitaek. He actually wanted to avoid him. But if Hyojong sat somewhere else, that’d be weird, and he was sure he’d offend the red-haired man. He couldn’t just avoid Hwitaek after having sex with him, that wasn’t fair. That was a dick move.

As soon as Hyojong pulled his chair out, Hwitaek’s eyes were on him. “Hyojong!” he grinned, staring up at Hyojong like he was the greatest gift to mankind. Which, if anyone was wondering, he wasn’t. He was far from it. “Did you get your car fixed? What was wrong with it? How are you feeling? This class was boring without you. Did you change your hair?”

Hyojong chuckled. Hwitaek was obnoxious. “Hey, chill out,” he said. There were too many enthusiastic questions for Hyojong to be able to respond to all of them. “My car is fine.” The class was boring without Hyojong. Did that mean that Hwitaek _missed_ him? Hyojong was not going to look into that, too much. “I just bleached my roots.” There was no reason for Hwitaek to freak out so much. Hyojong had missed two class periods. It wasn’t like he’d been gone for a month. Besides, it wasn’t like he and Hwitaek saw each other all the time, anyway.

“It looks so good,” Hwitaek smiled, quickly running his fingers through Hyojong’s hair.

Hyojong pursed his lips. “Thanks.” Hwitaek’s hand running through his hair. It reminded Hyojong of when they’d been kissing, and when Hyojong had been on top of him. Hwitaek’s hands had been in his hair for the majority of the night, if they hadn’t been scratching his skin. It also reminded Hyojong of when he’d blown Hwitaek, and the loud sounds Hwitaek had made during. All in all, Hyojong was doing his best to keep from getting hard.

“How were your days off?” Hwitaek asked. Hyojong could see him through the hair that had fallen into his face. Hwitaek was smiling expectantly, round cheeks practically glowing. His brown eyes were sparkling, his pink lips stretched into a perfect smile.

“Boring,” Hyojong said. He didn’t want to talk about the couple of days he’d been too much of a pussy to see Hwitaek in person. “I didn’t do anything except smoke and sleep.”

Hwitaek nodded in understanding. “Who did your hair?” He leaned in closer, as if he were trying to get a closer look at Hyojong. Hyojong couldn’t tell if he was enjoying it, or not. Probably not.

Hyojong felt in his pocket to make sure he had a box of cigarettes with him. He was going to need it, after this. “I did it myself,” he said. “I had Kino help me.”

“That’s fun,” Hwitaek said. “I’ve been thinking of changing my hair, soon.” He was holding a piece of his faded salmon hair between is fingers. “It’s really faded. I was thinking, like, a blue. What do you think?” He obviously really wanted Hyojong’s opinion. Hyojong didn’t really know what to do.

“Uh, I don’t know.” Hwitaek looked disappointed. “Blue would be fine. It’s fitting.” Blue. Bright, fresh, pretty. Fitting.

“You think so?” Hwitaek asked. Hyojong just nodded. The red-haired man tilted his head, his smile faltering, a little. “Are you okay? It’s not weird between us, right? After… you know.”

“Not weird,” Hyojong said, giving an awkward smile.

Hwitaek wrinkled his nose. It was really cute. “A little weird?” he asked cautiously. He put a hand on Hyojong’s shoulder, observing the blond’s face.

“A little,” Hyojong shrugged. Leave it to the invasive Hwitaek to know exactly what was on his mind. For a prep, Hwitaek sure knew a hell of a lot about him.

Hwitaek put his hand on the top of Hyojong’s thigh. Hyojong hated himself for how familiar it was. “Is there any way to made it less weird?” Hwitaek asked. Hyojong didn’t reply, just shrugged one shoulder. “Do you want to hang out?”

_No_ , he didn’t. “Only if you ditch this class with me.” That had not been what Hyojong was meaning to say. Somehow, whenever he was around Hwitaek, his mouth never wanted to obey him. Specifically, when saying ‘no’ was involved.

“What?” Hwitaek sputtered. “We can’t ditch this class, we’re already here.”

Hyojong stood up. Hwitaek’s eyes followed him, all the way up. “You don’t have to,” he said nonchalantly. He maybe wanted Hwitaek to. “But I don’t want to be here, today. This is too boring.” He moved to pick his skateboard up from against the wall. “Do what you want.” Hyojong had no real preference, either way. Hwitaek could stay in this boring classroom all day, if he wanted to. Or he could go with Hyojong, and do anything other than listen to a lecture about chemistry. Hyojong knew which one he would have preferred. It was up to him.

Hwitaek sighed loudly, and looked down at his notebook. Hyojong took it as a sign that Hwitaek wanted to be bored to death, and moved towards the door. At least he’d be able to smoke in peace.

He was halfway out the door, when he heard Hwitaek sigh, “fine.”

Hyojong turned around slowly, raising his eyebrows. “Huh?” was all he could manage to say, in a perfect display of intelligence.

“I’ll come. Just this once.” He shoved his notebook in his bag, and slung it over his shoulder. “But you have to _promise_ me that you’ll be here for the next class period, because we have to present out project. Which also means that you’ll have to finish the poster, between now and then.” They were already out the door. “And you have to actually try to do a good job, because my grades depend on this, too.”

Hyojong sighed, shooting Hwitaek a glance. “Fine, fine. Stop lecturing me.” He rolled his eyes when Hwitaek huffed, even though he thought it was cute. “Are you hungry?”

“What?”

Hyojong sighed dramatically. “Are you hungry?” he repeated, making sure to over-enunciate, to emphasize his point. “Is that hard for you to understand?”

“Don’t be mean,” Hwitaek pouted. Hyojong mumbled an apology, to which he was met with a small smile. “I’m not really hungry, but if you are, I don’t mind coming along.”

Hwitaek was too nice to Hyojong. Hyojong should have been used to it, by now, but it still threw him off guard. “When was the last time you ate?” he asked. He didn’t know how to deal with Hwitaek, now. It was either yell at him, or fuck him, in Hyojong’s past experiences. Right now, Hyojong wanted to do neither.

Hwitaek look confused. He did a little jog to keep up with Hyojong’s pace. “Uh, this morning?”

“Good enough,” Hyojong shrugged. “Do you want waffles or McDonald’s?”

“I don’t care either way,” Hwitaek smiled. Why was he so _nice_? “What do you want?”

That was really a good question. Hyojong wasn’t good at answering questions like that. “I don’t know,” he mumbled.

Hwitaek put his hand on Hyojong’s shoulder. He was smiling wide, his eyes creased into the familiar, tiny crescents. “Let’s go to McDonald’s. It’ll be cheaper, anyway.”

Hyojong let himself give a small smile. “Fine.” He stopped at his car, unlocking his door.

“This is your car?” Hwitaek asked, eyes wide. He opened the passengers side door and slid in. His backpack was stuffed next to his feet. Hwitaek was sitting politely, hands folded in his lap.

“Well, I didn’t steal it, so I guess so,” Hyojong said. “Did you expect me to have a stolen car?” He knew he had a bad reputation, but for fuck’s sake. He wasn’t that bad.

“No, of course not,” Hwitaek laughed out. “I don’t know what I was expecting. It’s nice. Cute.”

Hyojong didn’t understand how his old, beat up, grey piece of shit was cute, but whatever. If Hwitaek thought his sad little car was cute, Hyojong had no reason to argue with him.

Hyojong started the engine, shooting a smile to the red-haired man. He chuckled. “You’re so weird.” People thought Hyojong was odd. Sure, he was a little different. But Hwitaek was fucking _weird_. He thought the weirdest shit was _cute_ , and he was nice to Hyojong, and open to what Hyojong had to say, it was scary. Not bad. Just so different from what Hyojong was used to. He didn’t get it.

Hwitaek laughed loudly, leaning towards the younger man. He smacked Hyojong on the shoulder. “I am not _weird_ ,” he laughed, shaking his head. “Name one way you think I’m weird.”

“Well,” Hyojong snorted, “for starters, you’re really weirdly open to having sex with me.”

Hwitaek rolled his eyes and set his elbow on the center console, between their seats. “Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked. He blinked his pretty eyes at Hyojong, and for a second, the blond wanted to agree with whatever Hwitaek said.

“You know,” Hyojong sighed. “I’m _me_ , and you’re a good kid. You do what you’re told, and you’re social. I mean, you’re the class president. That means a lot of people like you, and you’re good enough to be the head of whatever. I smoke on campus, and I like to be mean.” Hyojong was the opposite of everything a model student was. People thought he was a delinquent, and sometimes he agreed with them. It was why he and Hwitaek worked so poorly together. They were too different.

Hwitaek have a small smile, still looking up at Hyojong. “Have you ever thought that it’s those things that make you so hot?” he asked.

Hyojong shrugged, to try to cover up the fact that he choked whenever Hwitaek called him hot. “Well, sure. To crazy people. But you’re the type of person that usually _avoids_ me. You’re a good kid.”

Hwitaek gave a roll of his eyes. “Why does everyone think I’m some flavourless perfect student?” He sat up, again, looking straight ahead of himself. 

“You’re not flavourless,” Hyojong reasoned. He turned the key in his car. He figured this was going to take more than a hot minute. And gas wasn’t cheap. “But you kind of _are_ a perfect student. You get good grades, and you’re nice to people. And you’re always a teacher’s pet, even you can’t argue with that.”

Hwitaek pressed his lips together. Hyojong had almost forgotten how plump they were. It was annoying, how easily distracted Hyojong got. Hwitaek’s lips were just so _pretty_. “That doesn’t mean anything. A lot of people do the same things I do.”

Hyojong wondered how he’d gotten himself into this predicament. He didn’t mind, too much. But if someone had told him, a month ago, that he’d be sitting in his car, giving the class president a pep talk, he would have punched that person in the face. Now, he was the one who deserved to get punched in the face. “For you, it’s to a bigger extent, though. You’re the class president. You’re basically representing everything the perfect student is _supposed_ to do. You’re the poster boy for being a square.”

Hwitaek’s lips parted in surprise, and he huffed. Not the reaction Hyojong was trying to get. “I’m not a square.” Hyojong wasn’t sure, but it was almost like Hwitaek was glaring at him. _Hwitaek_ was _glaring_ at him. He didn’t know whether he was supposed to be turned on, or not. “Maybe we should hang out another day.” His hand touched the door handle.

Hyojong, the idiot that he was, was quick to pull Hwitaek’s hand away from the door handle. “I wasn’t trying to offend you,” he said. “I just mean that you do what you’re supposed to. People like that. It’s why you’re the class president.”

“Do you think I’m boring?”

Hyojong damn near choked on air. “No. Not a chance.” Hwitaek was obnoxious, and enthusiastic, and preppy, but he was not boring. Hyojong was terrified of how _not_ boring Hwitaek was. “You’re definitely not boring.”

“But I’m a square?” he asked, eyes narrow.

Hyojong sighed. “That’s not what I mean. You know what I mean. You just don’t cause problems, or mess up, or do anything you’re not told to do. You’re just… good.” He cleared his throat. What a conversation this was. “A good student.”

“I don’t want people to think I’m boring just because I do well in school,” he said. “I just like trying hard, and doing well. I don’t think that should make me a boring person.”

“Honey,” Hyojong said, his eyes widening at the word. How did he keep doing this? Was he stupid? That seemed pretty logical, actually. He was stupid. “You really aren’t boring. If you were boring, do you think I would have slept with you? I’m still talking to you, aren’t I You’re not boring, you’re just a model student.”

Hwitaek seemed to ease up a little, at Hyojong’s words. His fingers found Hyojong’s arm, resting there. “I’m not a model student. I’m ditching class right now.”

Hyojong snorted. “It’s your first time, though, right?” Perfect, preppy Hwitaek was not the type to ditch his classes.

“Yes,” Hwitaek sad, looking at Hyojong out the sides of his eyes. “But I’m still doing it.”

Hyojong smiled. Pouty Hwitaek was still cute as all hell. “Only because I told you to. And you tend to not do what you’re supposed to, when I’m involved.” The first example, was having sex with Hyojong.

The older man set his elbow back between the seats, setting his chin oh the palm of his hand. He looked up at Hyojong through his eyelashes. He looked up at Hyojong through his eyelashes, a small smile on his face. “I like doing what I’m not supposed to, when I’m with you.”

Hyojong was really trying to not stare at Hwitaek’s lips. He wasn’t sure he was succeeding. “I know,” he said.

Hwitaek’s face was close to Hyojong’s. “I’m not boring,” he said quietly. His lips barely moved, when he spoke.

Hyojong nodded. “You don’t have to prove it to me.” Hwitaek was a lot of things. Boring was not one of them.

Hwitaek ran his fingers through the short hair at the back of Hyojong’s head, and Hyojong shivered. “Yeah,” Hwitaek sighed. He leaned forward until his lips were _just_ barely brushing against the blond’s. “But I want to.”

He came forward, just enough, so he was kissing Hyojong on the mouth. His lips were waxy with watermelon lip balm, and Hyojong could easily taste the sweetness of it. Of Hwitaek. Hyojong hadn’t been planning on kissing Hwitaek back, at first. And then he realized he was a fool for even pretending to be able to resist, and was kissing Hwitaek back with more vigor than he’d had for anything in his life. He put both of his hands on the sides of Hwitaek’s face, pulling him closer. He shoved his tongue between the red-haired man’s lips, flicking it against the roof of Hwitaek’s mouth, licking hard against Hwitaek’s own tongue. He sucked on his lower lip, smiling at the gasp he earned when he bit down. “Fuck McDonald’s, right?” Hyojong said against the other’s lips.

Hwitaek’s hands quickly worked at the front of Hyojong’s jeans. He gave a pleased hum, unzipping Hyojong’s pants. Hyojong was already hard, only from kissing for a bit. Hwitaek’s hand rubbed at his bulge. He pulled away, just far enough to be able to look at Hyojong. “I want more,” he said.

Hyojong swallowed hard. “Really?” Sex with Hwitaek. Again. Could his body handle that? That sort of unfiltered eroticism? The first time was good enough. If he got to fuck Hwitaek again, he wasn’t sure he’d survive.

Hwitaek sat back and rolled his eyes. “ _Of course_ ,” he scoffed. “We talked about this last time. I want to have sex with you, more. A lot more. As far as I remember, you feel the same way. We’re friends with benefits, remember?”

“I remember,” Hyojong said quickly. “But we just… did that… a couple days ago. Are you sure you want to do it so soon?” They just had sex late Friday night. Technically, really early Saturday. And then they did more on Saturday, after they’d both woken up. This felt kind of soon, to Hyojong. Not that he _didn’t_ want to fuck Hwitaek. But he just didn’t know if Hwitaek was right, about wanting to sleep with Hyojong.

“ _Hyojong_ ,” Hwitaek complained. “It’s been a week. I would have done it with you sooner, if I could have.” He managed to get his hands under Hyojong’s shirt, feeling his bare skin. He pressed his lips to the blond’s jawline, and then to the spot where his neck met shoulder. His lips were deadly soft, even against the skin of Hyojong’s neck. Hyojong was trying to keep his breathing as normal as possible. “Why don’t you believe me?” the older man whined.

“I believe you,” Hyojong said. He grabbed Hwitaek by the shoulders, pulling him away from Hyojong’s neck. “It’s just—Why are you so horny?”

Hwitaek’s round eyes seemed darker than normal. “Because of you, obviously.” Hyojong choked on the inhale he was trying to take. “Seriously, Hyojong, I don’t think you understand how hot you are.”

Hyojong smiled, “wouldn’t it be weird if I thought I was hot?”

A thoughtful pout formed on Hwitaek’s face. “Not really. Can’t we just fuck in your car? Right now?”

The sounded nice. Really fucking nice. Fucking Hwitaek in the back seat of his car. Pinning Hwitaek’s lithe body against the seat and fucking him good and hard. Seeing his handprints on the windows. Not caring if anyone saw them, or knew what they were doing. And, oh god, Hyojong was hard. But there was still one issue with that plan. “I don’t have lube in my car.” He didn’t carry any. Because he didn’t think he needed to. Before a week ago, he almost never had sex. Now, Hwitaek was far more than he could handle.

“Well, why not?”

Hyojong scoffed out a laugh. “Because I didn’t think you were going to try to jump my bones while we were in my car.”

Hwitaek smiled brightly. “I should start carrying some in my backpack. Just in case we need it.”

Hyojong started the engine of his car. “How many places are you expecting to seduce me?” he asked, bewildered. He was painfully hard, but at least his jeans were unzipped and unbuttoned, so he didn’t feel like he was going to burst.

The older man gave a cute giggle. He put his seatbelt on, and leaned over to give Hyojong a slow kiss on the mouth. “Who knows?” he said cutely. He sat back down, biting his lower lip and smiling at Hyojong. “Can we just go to your place?” He bat his long eyelashes at Hyojong.

Who was Hyojong to refuse the guy? Hyojong swallowed hard. “That’s the plan.”

#

“Uh, hey, Wooseok,” Hyojong said, as soon as he opened the door to his apartment. Wooseok was lying on Hyojong’s floor, long limbs occupying most of the room. He was lying face down, unmoving. “Are you dead?” He and Hwitaek stepped over his legs. Hwitaek set his backpack on the floor, next to the couch.

A quiet groan left Wooseok, muffled against the carpet.

Hyojong gently nudged his side with a foot. “What’s wrong, buddy?”

“Oh!” Hwitaek said, practically jumping up and down. “Is it because Yanan is gone?” He stood close to Hyojong, putting one of his hands on the back of Hyojong’s arm. Hyojong felt like he should have been irritated. He wasn’t. And that’s how he knew there was something very, very wrong with him.

“Uh-huh,” Wooseok grunted, slightly nodding his head. Hyojong wanted to point out that his carpet was not the cleanest, in terms of Wooseok rubbing his face on it. He decided to let Wooseok have this one.

“Where’s Yanan?” he asked, taking his jacket off. He threw it on the couch, not missing the way Hwitaek’s eyes clung to his biceps.

Wooseok rolled over, so he was on his back. “Yanan is in China, for a week, to visit family.” He pouted his lips out, and Hyojong suddenly remembered why he and Shinwon referred to him as ‘the baby.’ It was because Wooseok was one, huge size difference away from being an actual infant. “He’s already been gone for two days, and I miss him so much.”

“That’s cute,” Hwitaek cooed.

Hyojong shrugged. “That’s only five more days,” he said. “Just, uh, jerk off a lot,” he suggested, wrinkling his nose. Not what he wanted to tell his best friend to do, but whatever.

Wooseok groaned. “I don’t _want_ to,” he said. “I’ve already done that.” Hyojong wrinkled his nose. “I don’t wanna touch myself. I wanna touch Yanan.”

“Gross,” Hyojong laughed. “I can’t help you, there.”

Hwitaek bent over to pat Wooseok on the shoulder, and Hyojong couldn’t help but notice how nice his ass looked, like that. “You’ll be okay, Wooseokkie,” the red-haired man smiled kindly. “Just talk to Yanan on the phone.”

The taller man sat up halfway. “Like phone sex?” he asked, large eyes getting wider.

The spot between Hwitaek’s eyebrows wrinkled. “I meant more just to keep in contact with him, but sure. Whatever makes you happy.”

Wooseok nodded, fishing his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll call him.”

“Yo,” Hyojong said, smacking the phone out of his friend’s hand. “Great idea, but I don’t need you getting all hot and bothered in my apartment.”

“That’s my job,” Hwitaek murmured with a snort. Hyojong tried to shoot him a glare, but just ended up smiling ay him. Good one, Hyojong. Smile at the enemy.

“I have to go a week without having sex,” Wooseok said. “Do you know what that’s like, Hyojong?”

Hyojong raised his eyebrows. “I’ve gone longer.” He wondered what it’d be like to go a long time without having sex with Hwitaek. He could easily imagine how irritable he’d get. He liked getting off. He liked Hwitaek getting him off. And then he reminded himself that they’d only had sex once, about a week ago. He’d made it this far. And then he reminded himself that, unlike Wooseok and Yanan, he and Hwitaek weren’t dating. It wasn’t the same thing at all. Hyojong and Hwitaek were not dating.

The taller man pouted. “Daddy’s horny.”

Hyojong gagged loudly, to make sure Wooseok knew how much Hyojong _despised_ what he’d just said. His friends were so, so disgusting, but he couldn’t say he wasn’t proud. He’d taught them all well. “That’s your cue to go,” he said, gesturing toward the door. He didn’t need to hear any more about Wooseok’s sex life. He had his own, to attend to.

Wooseok stood up, grabbing his phone off of the floor. “Right,” he said. He pat Hwitaek on the top of his head, earning a bright smile. He pat Hyojong on the top of the head, earning a sneer. Hyojong was going to kick his ass. “I’m gonna go virtually bang Yanan’s brains out.” Before Hyojong and Hwitaek could argue, or try to stop him, Wooseok was out the door.

“What a mess,” Hyojong laughed, turning to look at Hwitaek. “Seriously, I don’t know why it’s so hard for him to talk to his boyfriend. If he could stop—” Hwitaek’s hands landed on Hyojong’s shoulders, squeezing slightly. Hwitaek was looking up at Hyojong through his eyelashes. A small smile was on his lips, his eyes locked onto the blond’s face. He was staring wordlessly, but it was making the base of Hyojong’s spine tingle. He was trying to keep calm. “Being… so…” Hwitaek was really making this difficult. “Awkward.” 

Hwitaek’s smile widened, and he brought his face closer to Hyojong’s. “Yeah?” he said softly, his breath tickling over the younger man’s lips.

Hyojong couldn’t breathe. Hwitaek had no right, being this sexy. “It’s his boyfriend, he should be able to talk to him.”

Hwitaek looked rather pleased with himself, probably due to how visibly difficult it was for Hyojong to speak. He gave a small hum. “True.” Their faces were really close. Hyojong’s hands were still lying limp at his sides. He so badly wanted to touch Hwitaek, but he didn’t want Hwitaek to know how easily he got him. He was supposed to be able to resist stuff like this.

“I just don’t…know why…” Hyojong did have something to say. About Wooseok, he was sure. But Hwitaek pressed his own, plump lips to Hyojong’s, and he’d forgotten all about the conversation he’d been trying to have.

Hwitaek’s soft lips were against his own, and Hyojong’s hand was suddenly on the back of Hwitaek’s neck, pressing him impossibly closer. Hwitaek tasted like cola, and saliva, and really just like himself. Hyojong was astounded by the fact that he knew what Hwitaek tasted like, but he’d sucked his face enough, it’d be weirder if he hadn’t known.

“Are you sure you don’t want to keep talking about Wooseok?” Hwitaek teased, the smile apparent against Hyojong’s mouth.

“Shut up,” Hyojong said, but there was no bite to his words. “You wanna go to my room?” He wanted to go to his room. Very badly. He would have fought anything that got in his way, at this point. He was hard, and the memories of when he’d fucked Hwitaek for the first time last week were all coming back to him.

Hwitaek was quick to pull away. Weirdly enough, Hyojong didn’t think he was the horniest one in the room. Somehow, Hwitaek had him beat. The red-haired man grabbed Hyojong around the wrist, pulling him all the way into his own room. “Next time,” he said, putting both of his hands on the side of Hyojong’s face. “Let’s not wait a whole week.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After such a long break, please, please tell me how you feel about this fic, and this chapter!! Any and all comments are much appreciated ^^
> 
> Thank you all for reading, and taking the time to leave comments!
> 
> Instagram: hypjpng


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all! I'm finally back, after such a long hiatus!
> 
> With everything that happened with Pentagon, and Hyojong, I needed a bit of time to adjust, and time away from this fic. It's still a bit difficult to write for, but I missed this story, and I missed all of you. 
> 
> I also wanted to say a HUGE thank you for 500 kudos and 7k likes. That means a lot to me!
> 
> I hope that despite everything that has happened, you all will still enjoy this series until the very end. Thank you!

“Are you going to be home today?” Hongseok asked, dark eyes following Hwitaek as he moved towards the door. He had on a sweater vest and khaki slacks, his outfit complete with the dark blue tie he wore around his neck. It was an outfit Hwitaek was sure Hyojong would have hated, regardless of how many times Hwitaek told him it was supposed to be lightly formal. Right now, though, Hwitaek didn’t think he would tell Hyojong to be nicer about other people’s clothes, or at least not as much.

 

It wasn’t that Hwitaek was mad at Hongseok. He didn’t _have_ to like Hyojong. A lot of people seemed to not like Hyojong. Hwitaek, as much as he did like Hyojong, he could understand why other people didn’t. He was strong-headed, and Hwitaek could never really tell what he was thinking, and he was different. He wasn’t like anyone Hwitaek had ever met in all of his years of being alive. Traits like that tended to drive other, less-stubborn people away. It was fine. But Hongseok didn’t even _want_ to give Hyojong a chance. He wasn’t being open minded about the fact that _maybe_ Hyojong was just an anxious, insecure person, even though everyone knew Hyojong would rather die than say so. People didn’t want to like Hyojong, just because he had tattoos and piercings, and hated abiding by any rules that weren’t his own. He didn’t want to like Hyojong, because Hyojong wasn’t what he was used to. Hongseok _knew_ Hwitaek liked Hyojong. Hwitaek was one of Hongseok’s closest friends. He knew how odd it was for Hwitaek to truly, truly like someone. Hyojong was the first person Hwitaek liked in quite some time, yet Hongseok refused to give Hyojong the slightest bit of a chance. So, Hwitaek wasn’t mad at Hongseok. He was just disappointed, and maybe a little bit upset.

 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Hwitaek said. He shifted to adjust his backpack on his shoulders. “I have chemistry today, with Hyojong, so I’ll probably hang out with him afterward.” He knew that wasn’t what Hongseok wanted to hear. Hwitaek didn’t care. “I get out of class with him, so I’ll probably end up staying the night at his place, again.”

 

Hongseok sighed. “Alright.” His lips pursed for just a second, a small break of his otherwise calm demeanor. He really didn’t like Hyojong,

 

Hwitaek chewed on the inside of his cheek. “Why?”

 

“No reason,” Hongseok said, face pulling into a frown. His hair was falling over his eyes, but Hwitaek could see how displeased he was. “You’re just never home, anymore. You’re always with that guy.”

 

That guy. Hongseok said it like saying so much as Hyojong’s name would disgust him. “Yes,” Hwitaek said. “Hyojong is my friend, and I like spending time with him. Wouldn’t you want to spend time with someone if you liked them?” He was trying to remind Hongseok that he had feelings for Hyojong. He was trying to make Hongseok give him a chance.

 

“Yes,” Hongseok said tersely. His lips were pulled down into a scowl, dark eyes still on the older man’s face. The air seemed still; Hwitaek didn’t like it. He wanted to leave, he didn’t like how tense it felt between them. He wanted to get outside and go to his classes, like he was comfortable with. Besides, he was going to be able to see Hyojong, today. That was something to look forward to. That was something that made him want to leave his dorm right away, and get out of Hongseok’s piercing gaze. “But I’d know if they were bad news, or not.”

 

Hwitaek was speaking, before Hongseok even finished his sentence. “Hyojong isn’t bad news.”

 

Hongseok crossed his arms over his chest. Movements like these reminded Hwitaek that Hongseok could bench press in his sleep. Hwitaek was a pretty skinny guy, save for some of the muscle definition he’d accumulated by working over summers. Hongseok was a lot taller than him, not to mention how often he worked out. His muscles were huge, he could snap Hwitaek in half, if he wanted to. “You can’t know that for sure.”

 

“I do know it for sure,” Hwitaek argued. Hyojong was right: Hwitaek did love to argue. He just couldn’t stop defending all of his opinions. Hyojong seemed to be right about a lot of things. “Hyojong is really, _really_ great. I’ve known him for a while, now, but he’s not even half as bad as you keep making him out to be. He’s a good friend of mine, and on top of that, I like him a lot. You not liking him isn’t going to change that.”

 

Hongseok sighed again. “I’m not trying to just insult him for the sake of it. I wouldn’t do that. I’m trying to make sure you don’t get hurt. Hyojong is reckless.”

 

“I’m not going to get hurt. All we’re doing is sleeping together. It’s normal. A lot of people our age have casual affairs, or sleep with a lot of people, or even just sleep with one person, even though their _friends_ might not like it. It happens, Hongseok.”

 

Hongseok stepped closer to Hwitaek, really looking at him. Hwitaek felt like he was shrinking. The cool stillness between them was not getting better. In fact, the closer Hongseok got, the worse it felt. Hwitaek wished he could run away. “You’ve already started liking him because of it, though.”

 

“So, what?” Hwitaek scoffed, knitting his eyebrows. “Am I not allowed to like someone who doesn’t wear suits to class, and who likes having a little bit of fun every so often?”

 

Hongseok rolled his eyes. “It’s not about what he _wears_ , it’s about the fact that he always causes problems and doesn’t care about anyone but himself and the delinquent group of people he hangs out with. We’ve talked about him at student council a _countless_ number of times, why is that so okay with you?”

 

“That’s not fair,” Hwitaek said, his voice a little louder than it had been before. He wanted to leave immediately and go to Kino or Changgu or Hyojong and cry. He didn’t want to be around Hongseok anymore, not right now. “Hyojong’s friends— _my_ friends—were so fucking nice to you at the party.” Hongseok’s lips parted when Hwitaek cursed. “They’re some of the nicest people I’ve ever met, you can’t just _say_ that about them because you’re mad. Alright? I do like Hyojong. As a friend. As more than a friend. I have sex with him _all_ the time, and it’s really, really great. I’ve done a lot of things I would never tell my mom, or even some of my friends. But you know what? I love doing it. I like Hyojong, and I want to date him, and I really don’t care how you feel about him because it’s too late for you to stop me now.”

 

Hongseok shook his head, eyes trained on the lighter haired man. “Someone like him isn’t going to _get_ that. He probably doesn’t even know you like him, and if he does, he certainly doesn’t care. He’s selfish, and immature, and he never follows rules. Last year he lit a trashcan on fire because he was trying to put out a cigarette. Is that the type of person you want to be associated with?”

 

“You and Hyojong are so concerned with who you’re ‘associated’ with, and I don’t understand why. The difference is, Hyojong gave all of you a chance at his party, and I really appreciated that. He does a lot of little things like that, that I find _really_ sweet and charming, and that’s how I _know_ he’s not a bad person. Shouldn’t we be friends with whoever we want to, if they’re nice? I don’t care if Hyojong smokes, or drinks, or likes to glare at people he doesn’t know. I _like_ Hyojong. More than I’ve ever liked anyone else.”

 

“Do you really think he’ll like you back?” Hwitaek must have looked hurt. Which was appropriate. His throat felt tight. Did Hyojong anger Hongseok so much that he thought Hwitaek was unlikable? Hwitaek hadn’t been in many relationships, and certainly not recently, but he didn’t think there was anything _wrong_ with him because of it. But Hongseok was quick to cover up. “I didn’t mean it like that. You’re fine, you know you’re one of my best friends. But there’s something… _off_ about Hyojong. He makes me uneasy, and I don’t trust him around you. He isn’t _capable_ of liking someone that isn’t himself.”

 

Hwitaek’s took a deep breath. His eyes pricked with warmth, so he tried to focus on inhaling air through his nose. “Okay,” he said, swallowing hard. “I have a presentation with Hyojong, and then I’ll probably stay with Hyojong, if there’s an emergency.”

 

Hongseok stepped forward to put his hand on the older man’s shoulder, but Hwitaek was already moving away, getting ready to leave. “Please don’t be upset by that, I meant nothing against you.”

 

Hwitaek’s eyes flickered up to the taller man, and he quickly looked back down at his own feet. He opened their front door. “I have to go.”

 

Luckily, Hwitaek was out the door before he was able to shed a tear.

 

-

 

“Earth to Hwitaek,” a voice said, snapping Hwitaek out of his stupor. Hyojong sat down right next to him, looking as beautiful as ever. When Hwitaek looked up at him, an odd smile crossed his face. “Hey.”

 

“Oh,” Hwitaek said, sitting up from where he had been leaning on the desk. He straightened himself, clearing his throat. He was still feeling down because of he and Hongseok’s fight, this morning. It seemed like he was meant to have a bad day today, and he was pretty sure Hongseok set it off. “Hello.” He smiled a little, but he could tell it looked fake. It _felt_ fake, too. He hadn’t really said much all day, just walked around and went to his classes like he always did. He kind of wanted to lie down and cry.

 

Hyojong’s head tilted to the side, his blond hair moving with him. He was wearing a simple black t-shirt, but it looked so good on him. It was simple enough to accentuate the rest of him and bring out his natural attractiveness to the fullest. “You good?” he asked, his lips enunciating the words perfectly. He gave a small smile, like he was trying to make Hwitaek feel better, but didn’t exactly know how. It was sweet.

 

Hwitaek shrugged a small shrug, looking back down at the sloppy engravings on the desk. He never understood why people did that to desks, he always thought it’d be unnecessarily messy. “Off day, I guess,” he said quietly. After he and Hongseok had spoken, everything seemed to be going wrong. It was nothing major, but he’d spilled his coffee on his jeans, and broken his favourite pen, and a page had ripped out of his notebook when he’d dropped it. There were a lot of little things that seemed to want Hwitaek to have a bad day.

 

Hyojong thought about these four words, for a moment, his lips pursed into a line. “Oh,” he chose to say, brown eyes looking up at Hwitaek’s face. There was a small line formed between his brows, like the news of Hwitaek’s off day concerned him. Hwitaek felt a bit bad for concerning the blond, but he also sort of felt like screaming at the top of his lungs, so he figured that this was the more socially acceptable route to go with. “I’m sorry.”

 

Hwitaek let himself smile, just a little bit, for the first time that day. “Don’t be,” he said, leaning into Hyojong. “It’s not your fault.” He smiled a more authentic smile, to reassure Hyojong that everything was fine.

 

Hyojong raised his eyebrows, looking down at Hwitaek. He was still pretty, even with Hwitaek’s bad mood. The more Hwitaek looked at him, the brighter he looked. His skin looked smooth, and golden, and glowing. With the blond hair, and his dark eyes, and his torturously long eyelashes, he sort of looked like an angel. Although, Hwitaek would never tell him that. He didn’t think Hyojong was like being compared to an angel, too much. “Who’s fault is it?”

 

Hyojong really could read Hwitaek like a book. Hwitaek opened his mouth to explain, but the professor walked in and dimmed the lights, jumping right into the lecture of the day. “Are you free after class?” he asked, eyes steady on Hyojong’s jawline, even though the professor was talking. Hyojong nodded, and Hwitaek felt himself smile. “I’ll explain everything then. And then maybe we can do some other stuff.”

 

“Hey,” Hyojong said quickly, his eyes widening. He used a hand to shove Hwitaek’s shoulder, just enough to send Hwitaek the other direction. “Don’t say anything sexy, we have a presentation and I don’t wanna be popping a boner the whole time.”

 

Hwitaek tried, and failed, to laugh quietly. “Okay,” he laughed, resting his forehead on Hyojong’s shoulder, as he did. For whatever reason, bantering with Hyojong like this really helped Hwitaek’s mood. He liked Hyojong. He liked Hyojong a lot. “But afterwards, I’m really going to give it to you good.” He smiled wide, laughing at his own words. And laughing at the horrified expression on Hyojong’s face.

 

Horror turned into laughter, and Hyojong’s eyes were creasing. “Please stop talking,” he said, eyes scanning over Hwitaek’s face. He shook his head in amusement. “ _You’re_ going to give it to _me_?” he asked, eyebrows raising again.

 

Hwitaek shrugged, glad that Hyojong showed up to class, today. He had to, since they had a presentation, but still. It was nice to be able to see him. “I stand by that,” he said, bumping Hyojong’s shoulder with his own. “Now be quiet, we’re in class.”

 

Hyojong scoffed, but couldn’t hide the smile that stretched across his face.

 

-

 

“That went better than expected,” Hyojong said, walking next to Hwitaek. They were still on campus, right out of class. Hyojong didn’t have his skateboard today, all he’d brought to class was a pencil that had been shoved in his pocket as they were leaving the room. He was walking next to Hwitaek, arms swinging as he did.

 

“I knew it would be fine,” Hwitaek said, his backpack slung over his shoulders. He was holding onto the straps, looking up at Hyojong.

 

“Well, yeah,” Hyojong said simply, “you did all the talking. As always.” He shoved his hands in the pockets, muscle shifting in his forearms. “Why’re you having a bad day?”

 

Hwitaek sighed loudly, remembering this morning. “It’s Hongseok,” he said, his shoulders slumping. “He just doesn’t want to get along with me, right now.” That was the simplest way to put it. Hongseok just didn’t want to be agreeable.

 

“About what?” Hyojong asked, walking close to the older man. Hwitaek frowned. He didn’t want to discuss every reason Hongseok was mad. “About me,” Hyojong stated, as if he’d already known the answer.

 

Hwitaek nodded, lips turning down in a scowl. “He’s one of my best friends, but sometimes he drives me crazy. He thinks you’re bad news.” Which was funny, to Hwitaek, because Hwitaek was always the one who wanted to do stuff. Hyojong was just the one who supplied it. Weed, alcohol, sex. If anything, Hwitaek was the one who had all risky ideas.

 

“Aren’t I?”

 

“What?” Hwitaek asked quickly, head snapping towards the blond. “No, you’re not bad news. You’re great. Hongseok just doesn’t like anything different, that’s all. You’re not the problem, I promise.”

 

“I knew Hongseok didn’t like me,” Hyojong said, running a hand through his hair. The flower tattoo on his hand was on fully display, catching Hwitaek’s gaze. “He doesn’t have to like me, I don’t care about his opinions. He pisses me off.”

 

“I know,” Hwitaek said, defeated. He knew Hyojong didn’t care about anyone’s opinions. That was everything he stood for. “I shouldn’t care either, but he’s my friend, and you’re my friend, and I want everyone to get along. And he won’t listen to me at all, no matter how many times I try to convince him that you’re a good person. He just wants to dislike you, and I’m not going to be able to change his mind.” Hwitaek could say anything, and Hongseok would find another reason to dislike him. It was infuriating.

 

“He doesn’t have to like me,” Hyojong said, slowing to a stop. He put his hand on Hwitaek’s shoulder, head tilting to the side. “He has to deal with me, anyway, right? As long as you like me, Hongseok can suck my ass.” He gave a short laugh at his own words, and started walking again.

 

Hwitaek wrinkled his nose in a smile. He did like Hyojong. That was a good point. “I know you weren’t happy about being chemistry partners, but it turned out alright, don’t you think?” He knew Hyojong didn’t like partnering up with him, that much, but that hadn’t stopped Hwitaek. For one thing, the first time they tried to study together, he’d just ended up getting high for the first time and making out with Hyojong. That seemed to happen a lot, whenever he was around Hyojong. Hwitaek had kissed Hyojong into being friends, and then into sleeping together, and now enough so that Hwitaek liked him. He didn’t think this science project was a bad thing at all.

 

“It was fine,” Hyojong said nonchalantly, his lips twitching into a curve. He was trying not to smile.

 

“Just fine?” Hwitaek asked, eyes following Hyojong’s smile. He knew Hyojong was teasing him—it was nice. It made his day feel a lot lighter.

 

“Fine,” the blond said, giving in with a sly smile. He shrugged. “It was decent.”

 

Hwitaek stopped walking, turning to look at the blond. “Decent?” he quipped, his face close to Hyojong’s. Hyojong was looking at his lips, adam’s apple bobbing with a swallow. Hyojong’s attention was completely on Hwitaek’s lips as he spoke and smiled.

 

Hyojong nodded, his breath a little harder than usual. “Just decent.”

 

The red haired man looped his arms around Hyojong’s neck, neither of them caring that they were in the middle of campus. They didn’t do this, often. Hyojong usually made them keep any sort of affection or physical contact inside, away from people who weren’t Hyojong’s close friends. Even with Hyojong’s friends, they dialed it down, a bit. Hwitaek didn’t mind not getting to kiss Hyojong around people, he did enough, anyway. But standing in the middle of campus like this was nice. Hwitaek liked it. “I was hoping for a better score.”

 

Hyojong smiled, “wanna try to change my mind?”

 

It was Hwitaek who swallowed hard, this time. There was heat pooling in his stomach, his palms starting to sweat. “My dorm is right around the corner,” he said, leaning forward on his toes to be closer to Hyojong. He smelled like pine, and shaving cream, and a little bit like strawberries. Hwitaek wanted to kiss him.

 

Hyojong’s eyes widened momentarily. “Your place?” he asked.

 

They’d never done anything outside of Hyojong’s apartment. Hwitaek liked Hyojong’s bed, and couch, and everything, and he didn’t have any roommates. He just had plants, so it was quiet and empty enough for Hwitaek and Hyojong to do whatever they wanted to do. “No one’s there, right now.”

 

“We never do anything at your place,” Hyojong pointed out, getting closer to Hwitaek. His body was close to the older man’s, almost flush. Hyojong seemed more excited than usual. Hwitaek didn’t know why, but he was enjoying it.

 

“Well,” Hwitaek smiled, “it’s closer. And if it makes you feel any better, it’ll really make Hongseok mad.” He gave Hyojong a quick peck on the lips and turned around to keep walking, wanting to get to his place as soon as possible.

 

Hyojong started walking faster, easily breezing past Hwitaek. “Hurry,” he said.

 

“Did that actually make you feel better?” Hwitaek asked, laughing loudly. Hyojong was so funny, sometimes. Especially when he wasn’t even trying to be funny. Hwitaek was always laughing, when he was around.

 

Hyojong put his hand on the back of Hwitaek’s neck, steering him forward. “You have no idea how that much turned me on,” he said.

 

“You’re so weird,” Hwitaek laughed, shaking his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After such a long break, please, please tell me how you feel about this fic, and this chapter!! Any and all comments are much appreciated ^^
> 
> Thank you all for reading, and taking the time to leave comments!

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is [here](https://sugaestheticss.tumblr.com)


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